


Epic

by nonbinaryezrabridger



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to other sites, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode Related, Healing from trauma, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Post Episode: s02e11 The Hive, Slow-ish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 26,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryezrabridger/pseuds/nonbinaryezrabridger
Summary: Ford escapes the hive ship. When he goes on a mission to get more enzyme, he runs into a very unusual wraith.
Relationships: Michael Kenmore/Aiden Ford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set post the hive and post misbegotten. Basically, Michael has escaped Atlantis and been taken up by a wraith ship. He hasn't yet begun his experiments/genocide/creepy obsession with teyla's baby because that freaks me out so we're going to say it never happened in this AU
> 
> TW for this chapter:
> 
> blood, cutting out of enzyme glands, descriptions of wounds, discussion of death

\-------

Ford had made it off the hive ship.

It had been a close call, but he knew the queen would be using her escape pod to flee, so it was a somewhat simple task of getting inside its small maze of tunnels and waiting. Once they had made it safely into open space, it wasn’t difficult to kill her and her unsuspecting guards.

Alone in the pod’s cockpit, Ford has a lot of time to think. Going cold turkey in the wraith cell had almost killed him, but it had also allowed him to think clearly for the first time in a while. When he wasn’t convulsing, that was. He had been able to think through his thought patterns the last few months and his reasons for leaving Atlantis. He had been able to realize that, while they had made sense at the time, they were mostly faulty.

And towards the end there, he really had wanted to return to Atlantis. Wanted to run after Sheppard and jump in the jumper and have everything be okay. That’s not how it worked out, of course. But at least he’s recognized the truth now; he wants to go back.

He will still die without the enzyme; he doubts Carson would have been able to change that before, but he certainly won’t be able to now. They won’t be happy about that, but it’s part of Ford now. He has started lessening the dosage he takes though, taking just enough to keep him alive while also reducing the side effects. He can think much clearer now, and has stopped feeling like something’s crawling all over him. He’s feeling much less aggressive too, which is good for when he gets back to Atlantis.

Still, he doesn’t want to go back right away. He’s burned so many bridges with them that he thinks it’s best he’s in full control of himself when he does return. He’s picked a nice little uninhabited planet to detox on until he feels ready. Unfortunately, even with using less, he’s run out of enzyme. He’s going to have to make one last raid before he can settle down on his planet.

Now that he’s alone, attacking a cruiser is a lot more dangerous. However, he does happen to have a ship absolutely covered in a wraith queen’s pheromones. Wraith being territorial, while react to the ship as if the enemy queen is attacking them. And while they’re swarming the ship in the dart bay, he can creep around the ship, steal as much enzyme as he needs, and then get out in a dart.

He’s just finished cutting the last bit of enzyme he needs out of a drone. He’d given himself a little bit of extra time in order to rescue someone if he could, just as a kind of apology for how many people he’s left on wraith ships. He finds the nearest feeding room, making sure it’s empty, and then steps inside.

He immediately thinks he’s in the wrong place; instead of a human strung up in the pink mass of tendrils, there’s a wraith. Ford adjusts quickly, stepping forwards and pressing his knife to the wraith’s arm without hesitation. He used up his rescuing time getting here, so he may as well get something out of it. He notices the wraith is already bloodied before he starts cutting and has to wonder why they are planning to feed on one of their own.

Then the wraith shifts and looks him straight in the eyes. Ford jumps, the cut going jagged. He hadn’t even bothered to check whether the wraith is conscious, and while he has never felt bad about killing wraith and cutting up their bodies, it’s a little bit harder when they’re staring at you while you do it. The wraith, surprisingly, isn’t screaming or calling for help or anything, just looking at ford with rage and a sad sort of resignation in his eyes. 

The expression catches Ford off guard too; wraith have emotions just like humans, but they express them much differently. Usually with a lot of hissing and snapping. This wraith’s expression almost looks human. Ford takes a closer look at him, taking in other oddities: short hair, skin much pinker than usual, blunter teeth. Definitely not your typical wraith, which must be why he’s here, waiting for someone to feed on him.

Despite his curiosity, Ford’s time has run out, so he finishes cutting the enzyme sack out and heads for the door. Before he can leave, the wraith speaks. 

“May I ask you a favor?”

His voice is just like all the other’s---like a slimy politician who’s also trying to decide which part of you he’s going to eat first---raising Ford’s hackles. He fully expects the next few sentences to be something about how Ford’s going to die here or something. They like to do that.

“Would you please kill me?”

It’s so unexpected that Ford falters back a step, his gun lowering.

“What?”

The wraith smiles, baring those blunt fangs, strangely sardonic.

“I would think a Lantean would understand preferring a quick death to being fed upon.”

Ford has to fight down the urge to protest that he’s not Lantean. He doubts the wraith cares about his current identity crisis. But he steps up to the wraith, pressing his knife to his throat. The wraith closes his eyes, something like relief flickering over his face. The wraith’s wrongness is still disorienting Ford, something like a hunch wriggling in the back of his head.

So he slashes the knife across the nearest strand of pink rather than the wraith's waiting throat. The wraith twitches, opening his eyes and looking very confused. That look only makes Ford more sure he’s doing the right thing. Once he’s cut the wraith’s arms free, he can see that for all his strangeness, the wraith still has his feeding mouths, gaping hungrily at Ford. But the wraith doesn’t lunge, so Ford keeps working at the organic restraints.

As the last strand snaps, the wraith almost collapses and Ford catches him. Slinging the wraith’s arm over his shoulders and helping him walk brings the hungry mouth in his hand frighteningly close, but Ford doesn’t hesitate. In for the penny in for the pound, and the wraith still doesn’t look like he fully believes this is happening. He’s not much of a threat at this point.

They make their way through the halls slowly. Ford takes out the drones they run into, and when one sneaks up on him, the wraith jumps in front of the stunner bolt meant for Ford. Healthy wraith can take multiple stun shots, but with his wounds, he’s barely conscious after that. But they make it to a dart and ford carefully drags him inside before taking flight.

They make it out into the open emptiness of space safely and Ford lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He carefully plugs in his planet’s location and lets the autopilot take over. When he turns back to look at his passenger, he’s slightly more aware and watching Ford with half lidded eyes.

He’s also bleeding all over the place, so Ford heads back to him, pulling a roll of gauze out of his pack. The wraith looks up at him, movement still slow and sleepy from the stun blast. Ford sets the gauze down and flips open his knife again. The wraith tenses, and Ford makes sure to move slowly and non threateningly as he leans down to cut off the thick leather uniform coat.

The wraith seems unbothered by the destruction of his coat, watching but not comprehending. Once Ford has access to the worst wounds in sight---the cut he had made on his arm and then a series of deep gashes on his chest---he starts cleaning them carefully. Then the wraith seems to understand and mutters:

“That is not necessary, they will heal on their own.”

Ford snorts.

“Wraith don’t get infections?”

The wraith blinks and stops trying to argue. Ford can’t imagine a festering wound would be any fun, even if it wouldn’t be dangerous. He watches Ford wrap the wound in his arm with a keen look, gears turning in his head as he tries to figure something out. All wraith are dangerous, but that look makes Ford realize that this wraith is smart.

“Why did you take something from me?”

Ford had kind of hoped the pain might have helped him forget that; it’s going to be a pretty hard subject to broach. And, having lost every drop of social graces he had when he left Atlantis, does perhaps the most insensitive thing he could have. He kicks over his pack and the container of wraith pieces falls out. No reason trying to hide it now, although as they stare at the bloody mess, he thinks maybe there would have been a better way to break that to him. Oh well, he was just cutting a hole in his arm a few minutes ago, this can’t be that much worse.

“Not just you.”

The wraith’s slit eyes turn intense, trying to figure out what exactly Ford cut out of them, obviously struggling with basic anatomy in his stunned state. But he gets it soon enough and snarls:

“Our enzyme glands.”

He seems less upset about it than Ford expected, he just looks up at him with curiosity plain in his face.

“Why would you want that?”

Ford laughs.

“Easy, tiger. I think I can give you my life story after you get some sleep.”

The wraith smiles crookedly, humming assent.

“Perhaps. ”

He lets his eyes slip closed and curls in on himself, quickly asleep. Ford keeps his pistol in hand---just in case he wakes up hungry---but he also drapes a blanket over him before returning to the cockpit.

———


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the blaster ford mentions this chapter is meant to be the same kind as ronon's
> 
> TW for this chapter: slight description of wounds, discussions of death

\-----

Ford has managed to manhandle the sleeping wraith into his bed without reopening any of his wounds. But now he’s stuck sitting in the dim evening light, trying to figure out what exactly he’s going to do. Rescuing him from the hive was a spur of the moment decision with absolutely no planning behind it.

At the moment, he has two options: keep him or kill him. It’s about fifty fifty on which he’ll choose at the moment. He takes the alien blaster he’d found two planets ago—which can kill a wraith in one shot——and spins it, trying to think this through.

The wraith shifts in his sleep, the light shining on the ridges of his face. Keeping him around probably isn’t a good idea, he’ll probably try to attack eventually, but Ford’s curiosity is overwhelming. Plus, he can always kill him later if he needs to.

\-------

Micheal eases back into awareness, his mind still buzzing with the dullness of being shot with a stunner. The softness and warmth of his surroundings probably isn’t helping either. Hive ships are kept purposely uncomfortably cold; it helps keep the drones aggressive. The last time Micheal woke up like this, he had been on Atlantis…

That thought is enough to make him sit up instantly, his head spinning and eyes struggling to focus with the too fast movement. He can hear something shift near him and he hisses, a warning to stay away. As soon as his vision clears, he whips around to look at the source of the noise. It's a human, which is a huge relief; he couldn’t win a fight with a wraith right now.

Looking closer though, he can see one of the human’s eyes is blown too large, faint ridges on the cheek underneath it. That eye brings the wave of memory back: the fear and helplessness as he waited to be fed upon, the hope when the human held the knife to his throat, the surprise when instead he was helped to a dart. He looks down, and there’s the gauze wrapped wounds, an alien white against his green-ish skin.

He looks up again, taking in the human’s relaxed lean against the table and the pistol held loosely in his hand. Micheal grins; it’s rare for humans to be unintimidated by wraith, and here he is, with only a single weapon. Micheal stands, sheets falling away from him and pooling around his feet, and begins moving towards the human with a sinuous swagger. Testing, to see how he will react. He can’t tell if he’s hoping to get shot or not.

The human smiles back and raises the gun. There’s no hesitation in his hands or his eyes. Micheal knows he should keep going; the number of rounds in the pistol won’t be enough to stop him, especially since he’ll have fed right after. The human would fall and he would feed. The hunger in him was already burning, and he needed to feed.

Still, the wraith that would have fed upon him would have been thinking the same exact thing.

He stops at a respectable distance, keeping his hands pressed against his side, palms facing away from the human. He lowers his head and smiles, soft like the humans do.

“Thank you for helping me escape.”

The human smiles, letting his other arm come into view, a nasty looking blaster in it. Not as defenseless as he wanted Michael to think he was. Michael smirks; he is impressed.

“You’re welcome.”

Michael hums, a buzzing frequency that calms wraith. He has gotten too used to being among them to remember how to express such things in a way that humans would understand. They require soothing in words, rather than thoughts or frequencies. Still, perhaps he can find a peace offering the human will understand.

He shifts his focus, walking slowly across the room to a homely looking chair covered in a soft, quilted blanket. He sits down and takes note of his state---he is wearing uniform underclothes but the coat is gone, the hunger is manageable but growing, and his wounds are much less painful than before---before speaking to the human again:

“My name is Michael.”

That pierces through the forced nonchalance of the human and brings a spark of real interest to his eye.

“That’s quite a human name, for a wraith. My name is Aiden Ford.”

Micheal ignores the kick of fear and self hatred at hearing the comment on his name. He just keeps his face controlled and his body relaxed as he asks:

“If you’d like to share life stories now, I am fine with that.”

Ford huffs out a laugh and puts down the pistol, although the blaster remains tucked into a holster on his hip.

“Sure, unless you’d like some tea first? That is, if you can even drink it.”

Micheal has to spend a long minute remembering what tea is; a liquid like coffee, he thinks. While his wraith tastebuds can only taste limited flavor, he knows that the warmth would be quite welcome.

“I can, and I’d enjoy a cup, thank you.”

Ford looks surprised at the affirmative answer; he probably meant it as a joke. Then he shrugs and heads into the small kitchen. Mciheal takes that opportunity to look around the building they’re in. 

Despite initially feeling like Atlantis, this place is different while still being noticeably Lantean. It appears to be a small house,with the large main room and two smaller ones. There’s Lantean technology lighting the rooms, and what looks like small data banks on one side of the main room.

However, it feels less threatening than Atlantis; the walls are painted a soft blue and the furniture is made of wood and leather. None of the dull grey appearance of where he was terrified and experimented upon.

There’s a sharp whistle from the kitchen, followed by an acrid smell. Wraith sense of smell is stronger than human, but less wide ranged, so he can’t tell what kind of tea it is. It’s disconcerting to still be discovering differences between human and wraith.

He shakes off the feeling as Ford renters the room, a pair of steaming cups in his hands. The smell is strong enough to make his nose twitch, but when Ford hands him the cup, the heat is already worth the harsh smell. This building is already much more comfortable than what he’s used to, but he still can’t help but press the cup against his chest, soaking up the warmth.

Ford settles into the chair next to him, sipping slowly at his own tea. He grins at Michael, gleefully amused. Micheal smiles back; he too can see the humor in the two of them sitting there calmly, sipping at tea. Looking at them in this moment, you wouldn’t know there was a war between their species.

He tries not to think about that, the ache of wanting this to continue. He can’t let himself think of there being more than survival in life or he thinks he will fall apart. It aches, sitting next to a human who is neither friend nor foe, but a bit of both. Michael has never allowed himself to hope, even when he was an amnesiac human who didn’t know any better, and he thinks to hope now would destroy him. And yet, there is a new sort of hunger growing in him, for there to be more of this sunlit peace in his future. It is a foolish thing to want when neither human nor wraith will harbor him.

Ford waits in silence, like a predator, but there is a kindness in it. Michael thinks maybe he can tell how Michael's thoughts are racing, how he needs time to gather himself. The possibility of him understanding scares Micheal than the gun on his hip does. Finally, Ford breaks the silence gently prodding;

“So, the name?”

Micheal sighs, and the story comes boiling out from between his fangs. He’s sure he’s nonsensical, switching between raw emotion---betrayal, fear, the helplessness of being trapped in every way possible, of having your mind stolen from you as surely as you were bound to the infirmary bed---to narrative with little warning. He tells Ford of how it felt to be human for a short amount of time, how the pink pelt never seemed to fit right. And how seeing himself screaming on the screen didn’t either, how even now he would call himself neither wraith nor human.

How Atlantis had taken everything from him and tried to give him lies back in it’s place, and even when he remembered and returned he was still too ruined to have peace. How he was wraith enough to feed but still too human to be anything but fed upon. How, even with all the universe around him, he still feels like he’s in the cage of Atlantis, unable to break free from what was done to him.

Ford listens, soaking up the words, that terrible understanding in his dark eyes. And when Michael has spoken so much that his mouth is dry and his chest feels empty, Ford begins to speak. His story is much the same, just painted in different shades. 

He speaks of how the wraith took his life from him only to give it back in the worst possible way, the enzyme pumping through his veins as he begged the Lantean ocean to finish the job. How the infirmary had become his cage too, his mind turned against him. How he had snarled and spat against those he called friends and then run. How even when he was wandering, he never felt free. The wraith always controlled him, even as he killed them; he could never take them out of his veins. How his friends haunted him as well, chasing him and begging him to go back to the infirmary. How even now, his mind cannot move on from what was done to it.

Their similarities and the honesty with which they’ve spoken leaves Michael shaking. Perhaps he could blame it on the stun, but he is too tired to lie to himself right now. So he simply makes his way to the bed and pulls the blankets over himself, trying to keep the heat in. Ford watches him with those mismatched eyes and takes the couch without a word. Micheal can’t figure out what he needs to ignore more: that he’ll be hungry enough to feed on Ford eventually, or that he’ll feel bad about it when it happens. Then again, there’s always the chance that Ford will use that blaster on him.

\--------


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> discussions of death

\--------

Micheal wakes with a groan; the burn of hunger has started crawling up from his stomach into his chest. He presses a shaking hand into the softness of his stomach, a pointless movement that he wants so desperately to work. The hunger remains unchanged, as expected. He rolls over, sniffing the air and trying to locate Ford. The couch is empty, a blanket spilling off the cushions, and from the scent Ford is already in the kitchen.

Michael gets up, keeping the blanket wrapped around him, trailing along the ground behind him. It’s a bit colder today, the pattering of rain outside the windows a calming background noise. The kitchen floor is pleasantly warm when he steps inside, the stone humming with what must be power conduits underneath. The Lantean stove and other appliances must be sucking up the majority of the power.

Ford turns, a hand shifting to the ever present blaster, but there’s a smile on his face and a fresh cup of coffee in his other hand. He offers it to Michael.

“I made myself breakfast and I figured you’d like something, even if you can’t eat anything.”

Micheal takes the cup gratefully, but he can’t help but quip:

“When did you decide to treat me like a houseguest rather than a prisoner?”

Ford laughs as he takes a seat at the table.

“You’re not a prisoner. If you want to leave, tell me where to take you and I’ll drop you off.”

Michael’s chest rumbles with a low, thoughtful frequency. As much as he longs for this sort of peace, he knows better than to accept it that easily. He lets his eyes linger on the gun on Ford’s hips, too obvious for the well trained man to miss and hisses:

“You know I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Ford shrugs, his fork full of scrambled eggs and his fingers just barely brushing the gun in something too soft to be a threat. More of a statement of the fact that will defend himself if needed.

“You’re welcome to stay here, as long as you don’t try to take a bite out of me.”

Michael knows that truce won’t last long; he’s not going to starve. But for now, he doesn’t see the need to break the tentative peace by arguing about it. So instead he settles down at the table, sipping at the bitter coffee and watching Ford eat. It still feels too impossibly safe, this little house with the potted plants on the windowsills and blankets on every chair, but it also feels like something he’s been waiting for a very long time. He’ll take advantage of it while he can.

Once he’s halfway through his plate, Ford starts speaking again, a wonderfully mundane conversation.

“I was planning to work on the garden today but the rain put an end to that plan. I still have to finish some work on the wiring in the back wall, if you’d be interested in helping. As nice as the quiet here is, it can get boring fast...”

Michael listens to him talk and speaks when appropriate, but otherwise he just lets himself sink into the chair. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, pulling his legs up to tuck his feet into its warmth, and finishes off the coffee. Ford’s voice and the patter of raindrops melds together into a gentle hum and he matches it with a frequency without even thinking about it. He lets himself hum along to the frequency of the house, feeling like he is actually settling down in a place for the first since Atlantis.

No more running, no more fighting, at least for the moment. Right now there’s just dishes to be done and bulbs to be planted tomorrow, nothing more.

\-------


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist throwing my own personal wraith biology headcanon in here :)
> 
> Tw for this chapter:
> 
> discussion of drug addiction, discussions of death, nonsexual nudity

\--------

Ford isn’t as stable as he’s pretending to be, and today is turning out to be a bad day. From the instant he woke up he could feel the aggression crawling under his skin, filling him with a need to be violent. He makes his way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, trying not to look at Michael. Even so, his fingers itch for his blaster and his mind tries to bargain with him; he’s never hesitated to kill wraith before, why should he now?

He pulls out the cutting board, slamming it against the counter just to get a bit of the energy out. Then he starts cutting up every vegetable in reach. It’s enough to distract him, and he can just throw them all in a pot and make soup for dinner. Once he’s massacred enough carrots and onions, he begins to feel a little less volatile. Still, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to stay in the house. He carefully brews a cup of tea and leaves it on the table next to the bed before heading outside.

By the time Michael comes out of the house, blinking against the brightness, Aiden has weeded the vegetable garden and all of the flowerbeds. Ripping up the weeds and breaking up the tough soil with his shovel has taken enough of the angry energy out of him that he no longer feels the need to shoot Michael. He stops preparing the soil for the bulbs in order to watch Michael. He’s seeing the planet for the first time and Aiden---who is secretly very proud of it---wants to see his reaction.

Past the flower beds and the garden, there’s a small rocky wall and then untouched land. Plains covered in long waving grass and wildflowers, a forest just beyond, and the smudge of mountains against the horizon. All of it is gently lit by the yellow sunlight of the planet’s star, which brings a bit of warmth to the cool air. Michael looks entranced, and Aiden can’t help but think of the difference between this and the hive ship they were just on. Maybe they’ve both needed this, the quiet and sunlight and a place to rest.

So Aiden stands, shaking the dirt off his gloves and breaking the spell michael’s under. He turns, sunlight making his slit eyes yellower than ever, and speaks gently:

“Thank you for the tea.”

Ford can’t help but smile at that; he’d forgotten he’d even done that. He hadn’t expected to be thanked ethier; wraith don’t seem like the type to care about manners. He has to wonder if it’s because Michael lived as a human for a short time, or if he’s just making extra effort.

“You’re welcome. I got started on the bulbs, but there’s plenty more work to be done.”

Micheal shuffles, suddenly unsure:

“I have never been around this many plants, let alone worked with them.”

Ford laughs, kneeling back down in the dirt.

“I haven’t gardened before this either! I’m just working off some vague memory of what my grandma told me. We can struggle through learning together, hmm?”

Micheal settles down at his side, cross legged, and picks up the trowel. Aiden can see that he’s wrapped strips of fabric around his hands--apparently ripped off of his ruined coat--- to cover his feeding mouths. It makes Aiden relax a bit and he hadn’t even been aware he was tense. He tries not to be grateful that Michael had thought of it, because he wouldn’t have.

Micheal digs holes where Aiden tells him to, the movement jerky as if the trowel is unfamiliar. Maybe it is; Aiden has no idea if wraith do any sort of planting or not. When Aiden start placing the bulbs in the dirt, dry skins flaking off in his hands, Michael frowns worriedly and asks:

“Are they not delicate? Won’t it be easy to kill them?”

Aiden laughs at him; he looks as if he thinks he’ll kill them by touching them, so he dumps one of the bulbs in Michael's hand. He cradles it carefully, as if he thinks it’ll break.

“Plants can be hard to grow, yes, but if we treat them right and make sure they get what they need, most of them will thrive.”

Michael buzzes contemplantly and lets the bulb roll into the last hole awaiting it. Aiden is carefully brushing the dirt back over it when he notices Michael is swaying, a hand pressed to his head.

“Are you okay?”

Michael gives him a weak smile, barely masking what seems like pain. Under the black fabric, his feeding mouths are opening and closing, making the bandaging shift. Aiden is suddenly reminded that they only have so long before Michael gets hungry enough to try and eat him. He hadn’t expected it to be a problem before, because he thought he’d be leaving the wraith some other planet somewhere. Now that he’s staying here, this could very quickly become an issue. But Michael seems to stabilize, standing, and whispering:

“I think I should rest.”

Aiden nods and watches him walk over to the stone bench near the house, lying curled up on it in a pool of sunlight like a cat. He isn’t regretting his decision to bring Michael here, but he definitely needs to figure out a solution soon. For now, michael is sleeping peacefully and he still has to water all the newly planted bulbs. Even with the comfortingly repetitive motion of pouring the water, he can’t stop thinking about the wraith he’s found himself inexplicably attached to.

Maybe it’s because he’s never met someone as capably vicious while also helplessly frightened as he is. Or maybe it’s just because wraith-human hybrid can’t be that common, and yet they managed to find each other. Add in being traumatized by atlantis and you’ve got two very confused but very similar people. Whatever deep psychological reason he likes Michael, he knows he doesn’t want to lose him.

\--------

The sun is beginning to set and Ford is putting the final touches on his soup when he remembers Michael is still asleep outside. He drops in one last sprig of rosemary and heads out the front door to wake his guest, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he goes. He steps out into the golden evening, sunlight like honey spilling over everything. The last few bumble bee stragglers are buzzing lazily around the flowers and birdsong rings through the heavy air.

Aiden takes a moment to soak in the beauty before making his way along the small trail of rocks that leads to the bench. Michael is still sprawled out, deeply asleep, the golden light glinting off the smooth texture of his alien skin. Aiden tries not to wince at the strange smoothness as he shakes his shoulder to wake him. He stirs awake slowly, shifting with a deadly grace, and opens his eyes.

When the sunlight hits them like this they get even more intense, the slits dilated so thin it almost vanishes and the yellow so bright it’s like looking at a sun. Aiden can’t help but stare until he blinks, breaking the trance. Ford hopes he didn’t notice and quickly distracts himself by speaking:

“I was going to eat dinner, figured you might want to join me.”

Micheal yawns, revealing his full set of fangs and a flash of pink tongue. He stands, ready to go inside, but stops to stare at his hands. There’s dirt smeared across his palms and under his fingernails and it must be uncomfortable. He hums, a noise that ford is beginning to recognize as his thinking noise, and then looks back up at ford.

“I will be happy to join you in a moment, but first I would like to shower.”

Ford nods and points the way to the makeshift camping shower; there wasn’t room for a shower inside the house and he’s never been picky, himself. Micheal doesn’t complain, just makes his way over to it. Ford returns to the kitchen and returns to the front yard with a glass of water: as far as he can tell, wraith need hydration as much as humans, and all Micheal had today has been coffee.

Wraith must not have the same concept of modesty as humans; Michael has stripped down and decided not to pull the shower curtain around him. Ford quickly looks up, keeping his eyes head height, and clears his throat just to make sure Michael knows he’s there. Michael’s eyes flit towards him, clearly aware of his presence, and continues without changing the nudity situation. Aiden shrugs and settles down on the front steps; the military is good at stripping away any awkwardness associated with nakedness.

And, he must admit, he’s curious about how alien the wraith actually are. He would be willing to bet the xenobiologists at atlantis would be drooling over an opportunity to see wraith anatomy like this. Somehow, in the whirlwind of trying not to die, studying the wraith’s basic functions had never really been important. So Ford takes the chance to really look at Michael, wondering if there’s any wraith traits that he’s picked up himself and hadn’t noticed.

The ports on their cheeks trail down over their abdomen as well, along with heavy ridging----almost like segmentation--- over their stomach, much like the belly of the iratus bug. But the most intriguing thing is that there’s a set of small, bug like appendages curled down against Michael’s ribcage. That effectively stops Ford’s scroll down his body as he watches them curiously. They’re attached underneath his humanoid arms, slotted into the spaces where his ribs aren’t. They twitch occasionally, furling and unfurling. 

Once Michael dries off and slips back into his clothes, he joins Aiden in sitting on the steps. Aiden hands him the water and waits until he’s drunk most of it before asking:

“I’ve never noticed those little legs on your chest before. Do they have a purpose?”

Micheal looks impressed that he noticed that.

“They are an evolutionary throwback to the iratus bug we evolved from. Not all wraith have them, about half and half. They are fully functional, but serve no real purpose.”

Aiden stands, leading him back into the house, driven by the smell of his dinner waiting for him.

“I don’t know, some humans would find them quite intimidating. We don’t really do well with things having more limbs than we think they should.”

Micheal laughs.

“How fortunate for you that the majority of the universe is bipedal, then.”

Ford chuckles and pulls out a bowl, ladling out some soup for himself before joining him at the table.

“Humans have a lot of ideas about how things should be, and we take them pretty seriously. Nudity is another one the wraith don’t seem to share.”

Micheal’s brow wrinkles as he struggles to remember something and when it comes to him, he only seems more concerned.

“I had forgotten humans were embarrassed by such things. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

Ford shakes his head no, surprised again by Michael’s seemingly legitimate concern for him.

“No no, I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t made you uncomfortable by looking at you. I’ve just never seen so much of a wraith before; you guys wear a lot of layers whenever we see you.”

“Hmm, no I was not uncomfortable. As you say, wraith do not have such concerns about nudity. We wear clothing because we are very susceptible to cold.”

Ford grins cheekily, not going to pass up the chance to tease him.

“Is that why you’ve been covered in blankets at every opportunity?”

“Indeed. Tea and coffee are also enjoyable for that reason, despite my being unable to taste them.”

“You can’t taste it at all?”

Micheal shakes his head, looking slightly saddened by the lack.

“I vaguely remember the flavors from when I was human, but i can no longer taste it. However, the smell is very recognizable.”

Ford hums thoughtfully.

“I never considered wraith having different senses than us. It is still worth it for me to bring you tea and stuff, then?”

Miccheal blinks, as if he’s confused Ford would doubt that.

“Of course! It’s greatly appreciated.”

\-------


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> More intense look at addiction (to the enzyme), mentions of homophobia

\--------

Ford has just stuck the needle into his arm when Michael pushes through the door into the kitchen, staring at him. He grits his teeth; despite needing the enzyme to live, having someone witness his treatments still sends a wave of shame through him. He has thought the closed door would have been enough to express his need for privacy, but apparently not.

Michael doesn’t look judgemental at all, mostly uninterested with only the barest hint of curiosity. Still, Ford has to fight down the urge to scream at him to get out, or worse, physically remove him from the room. He likes Michael, but having someone around makes controlling himself more difficult.

Having emptied the needle into his bloodstream, he yanks it out of his arm and tries to set it down. In his anger and lack of control, he slams it down instead, sending his bandages and equipment flying off the table and shattering the glass of the needle. 

The sound makes Michael jump and Ford sighs, closing his eyes and trying to rein the anger back in. He opens them and sighs again before standing up to retrieve the bandages. The broken glass has cut his fingers, making the gauze even more necessary.

When he stands, Michael takes one small step back, as if he’s expecting Ford to attack him. Ford has to stop to notice that his hands are fists and his body is taunt and ready to shift into an offensive stance. He takes another deep breath and forces his body to relax, giving Michael a shaky smile.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time. I’m not upset, I swear.”

Michael buzzes a doubting frequency, but shifts his weight forwards, defensive position uncurling.

“It’s alright. I should have knocked.”

Ford waves him off, snagging the bandage and sitting back down to press it to his cut fingers.

“No big deal. What did you need?”

Michael shuffled like he’s embarrassed and speaks quickly:

“I was hoping I could borrow some of your clothing. My garments have gotten quite dirty and need to be washed.”

Ford can’t believe he forgot about that; Michael’s been living in a tattered pair of clothes that probably still have some of his blood on them. 

“Of course. I’ll find something for you to wear for now, and I’m going trading in a couple days, so I can get you better clothing then.” 

Michael opens his mouth to ask a question but quickly stops himself. Ford smiles knowingly:

“No, you can’t come with me. But if you’re worried about my taste in fashion, you can tell me what you want and I’ll do the best I can.”

“Whatever you bring back will be acceptable.”

Ford finishes bandaging his arm and picks his materials off the table, gesturing Michael back towards the main room.

“You want to get changed so we can wash those?”

Michael waits patiently as Ford digs through his drawers and then takes the pile of clothes handed to him without complaint. Ford steps into the bathroom, closing the door to give him some privacy even though it isn’t necessary. He takes the chance to put his treatment materials away on the shelves over the sink, pushing them back to hide them behind the soap and shampoo. 

There’s a knock on the door just as he’s finished and he opens it to Michael, holding the dirty wraith clothes expectantly. Ford looks him over, assessing the fit of the borrowed clothes. He’s a bit taller and larger than Ford, so they’re tighter than Ford wears them, but it’s not a bad look. He takes the pile of dirty clothes and heads towards the washbin in the kitchen. He speaks over his shoulder to Michael, who is following a few steps behind.

“You know, for being part wraith, you’re pretty attractive.”

He’s kicking himself internally as soon as he’s said it; with mind jumbled like it is now, sometimes he says things that he probably shouldn’t. He wonders if wraith have homophobia, or if they’d managed to avoid that particular terribleness. Either way, they were terrible enough to make up for any possible lack of that certain bigotry. Too late to take it back now; he’ll just have to wait and see Michael’s reaction.

Michael has tilted his head, considering Ford like a bird that doesn’t quite understand what it’s looking at. He stays intensely focused for a moment, making Ford hold his breath, before he seems to let it go.

“Thank you. Where are you taking my clothes?”

Ford sighs, relieved. Maybe Michael hadn’t understood what Ford had said at all, or maybe he hadn’t understood the importance. Either way, the crisis is over; he can focus on washing clothes right now and freak out about realizing he’s attracted to Michael later.

“Outside. We’ll wash it real quick and then hang it up on the clothesline, okay?”

Michael hums and doesn’t inquire further as they leave the house. Ford quickly fills the washbin with the hose, Michael watching curiously as he works. He eventually takes a seat on the bench next to the washbin and when Ford looks up, his fidgeting with the unfamiliar human clothing he’s put on. He picks at the seam of the usually baggy pants Ford had given him, which are pulled tight over his thighs.

Ford looks away quickly; he’ s had a lot of focus of not thinking how attractive men look in those military pants, but it had been a while since he had to worry about it. And the man in question had never had fangs and slit eyes before. Ford is stuck asking himself a question he’d never expected to: how does he feel about being attracted to an alien? He hadn’t expected to be captain Kirking it in the Pegasus galaxy, considering most of its inhabitants are human, but the world is full of surprises.

Of course, the wraith eating humans also complicates things somewhat. Fortunately, Ford probably isn’t going to have to reach a decision anytime soon, as michael seems blissfully aware of anything related to what Ford had said. He, of course, just jinxed himself. Michael pipes up, voice careful and curious:

“May I ask you a question?”

Ford has a bad feeling about what it might be, but there’s not really any way around it without being really rude. He yanks the now clean clothes out of the washbin and starts pinning them to the clothesline to distract himself.

“Yeah, go for it.”

“What did you mean earlier, about attractiveness?”

Ford curses profusely in his head, but resigns himself to a painful conversation.

“I just meant you’re not bad looking.”

Michael frowns, looking even more confused.

“You mean you could find me desirable?”

Ford groans; he’s dug himself even deeper into this hole he’d started.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

Michael shakes his head, a disbelieving look on his face.

“Humans must have very strange standards. To a wraith queen, I would not even be considered an option. My tainted dna could produce dangerously imperfect offspring.”

Ford, once again, feels like an xenobiologist would be going crazy over this, and probably anthropologists too. This goes beyond low self esteem; its as if every conception wraith have about desire---and probably sex too---has to do with being useful, rather than any personal feelings. It explains why Michael looked so confused before; the idea that he would even be considered by anyone was something he hadn’t thought likely. Ford suddenly feels protective, and a little bit angry at wraith society in general.

He hangs up the last piece of wet clothing and thinks carefully about what he’s going to say next.

“Well, human standards are a lot different. Your dna doesn’t matter to us, it’s more personality and physical stuff. And most humans have slightly different opinions on what they find attractive.”

Its an impossibly large and complicated cultural concept to explain in a couple sentences, but enough seems to have in to make Michael look thoughtful. Ford taps him on the shoulder and heads towards the house.

“Come on, let’s get dinner started.”

Michael follows, still buzzing thoughtfully. 

\--------


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> threats of violence, no actual violence happens

\--------

Micheal wakes to pain lancing up his spine and centering in his temples. It’s finished moving up his chest and is now consuming every part of his upper body. He groans and presses his face into his pillow as if he could fool the pain into thinking he was asleep again. No such luck; it’s here to stay. He can already tell today is going to be a struggle.

He’s only been on this planet for three days, but it’s been much longer than that since he was able to feed. Once rescued from the human’s experimental planet, he was instantly rejected by the new hive’s queen and left waiting to be fed upon. The last thing he fed upon was one of his fellow wraith turned human, too weak to remember before the hive arrived. It wasn’t enough, and he’s quickly reaching the point of starvation.

There’s no reason Michael can’t waste away here, no instinct that will force him to feed rather than die. But to make that choice would mean he valued something about Ford over himself and he doesn’t know if he’s at that point yet. He has never really thought of himself as worth particularly much, but he’s continued surviving anyway. Maybe out of fear, maybe just to see if he can, maybe out of spite. 

At the exact wrong time, Ford appears at the side of the bed, bringing the smell of tea with him. The pain and anger that Michael had been ignoring for the last few days suddenly spikes and he lunges, pushing Ford a few stumbling steps back until he’s up against the wall. The cup of tea clatters to the floor, spilling across the wood. Micheal looms, pinning him there and snarling in his face. His hand is against the small arc of bare skin exposed by Ford’s shirt, only the bandage between his feeding mouth and Ford’s life force.

Michael can feel his heartbeat thrumming faster and he hums a frequency to match it. Despite his posturing, he has no intention of feeding. It’s as if he thinks this little display can change the decision his own mind has already made. He doesn’t know when he lost the single minded determination of a wraith; maybe they had broken him in that feeding chamber. Or maybe Ford had woven some sort of spell over him, with his soft blankets and warm tea and patient words.

Ford has the blaster pressing into Michael’s vulnerable stomach, but he can feel it’s not the thin point of the barrel. It’s only half raised, which coming from a man as prepared as Ford, is a huge admission of trust. He’s looking Michael in the eyes, unphased by the threat so clear in the hand against his chest. It’s enough to make Michael think he knows it’s an empty threat, and that only angers him further. He snarls, flashing so much fang his cheeks ache:

“I could suck all the life out of you.”

Ford smiles, soft but confident, as if he were handing Michael a bulb out in the garden rather than holding a gun against his chest.

“You won’t.”

Michael groans, deep and buzzing, and turns away. He’s clenching his fists so hard it’s hurting, his nails digging into his palms. He’s so angry and he has nowhere to put it, so he snarls and snaps at nothing. He can’t uncurl his shoulders or look Ford in the eyes as he storms across the room.

He’s stopped short when his bare foot hits the slowly spreading puddle of tea. That empties the anger out of him and fills him up with shame in its place. He had been working so hard to be polite and now he’s thrown a tantrum like a toddler.

Ford doesn’t say anything, just slides the gun back into its holster with a soft click and heads into the kitchen. He returns with an armful of rags and begins to clean up the mess. Micheal hovers for a long, uncertain moment, looming over ford as he scrubs at the floor. Then he kneels down to join him, picking up the mug and placing it upright.

“I’m sorry.”

Ford hands him a half dry rag like a peace offering and Michael takes it gratefully. His hands don’t stop working as he responds nonchalantly, like they weren’t both weapons half out of their holsters, like maybe they can work this out like people who aren’t alien hybrids.

“It’s okay.”

Michael thinks that it probably isn’t, at least it shouldn’t be. But they aren’t living in a world that’s okay, so maybe they just have to make what they can with what they have. He thinks ford is probably the only other person would think like that after being pinned to a wall by a wraith.

Of course, Ford forgiveness doesn’t mean he shouldn't bother controlling himself. He wants to be better than his instincts, better than the way he’s been living. He’s going to do better, even if the hunger is shredding him from the inside. 

“I will not threaten you again. And I would not hurt you like that.”

Ford hums, crooked smile beaming as he finishes wiping up the tea. 

“Thank you. But even if you tried, you wouldn’t succeed.”

Michael laughs; it’s nice to remember that even though they’re both trying to function on a somewhat more polite level, the basic parts of them are still there. The wraith will never come out of their blood, nor will the dangerous potential that fighting for survival has given them. They may no longer want to use their weapons, but that doesn’t mean they’ll disappear.

It’s a strangely comforting thought; in a universe filled with wraith, becoming too harmless would be unbelievably dangerous.

\-------


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for this chapter:
> 
> mentions of sexual assault, death, mentions of suicidal ideation

\------

Ford eats a quick breakfast and changes into less noticeably Lantean clothing before heading out, early enough that Michael is still asleep. He’s carrying a bag half full of items to trade and has his blaster hidden under a heavy outer coat. These people are peaceful and he’s traded with them before, but he still needs to be cautious.

Stepping through the stargate after staying on one planet for so long, feels strange. The portal tingles and he’s glad when he steps out the other side. The marketplace is bustling today, a few of the shopkeepers smiling at Ford when they see him. He’s taken care to form good relationships with them, helped along by some hefty tips in their local currency.

He trades for the essentials first; diary and other perishable groceries he can’t get out of his garden. He’d considered keeping chickens, but hadn’t wanted to deal with the noise and the mess. Next he finds some simple, comfortable clothes for Michael, and a long coat for good measure. It’s about as similar to the ruined wraith uniform coat as he can find.

The last thing on his list is going to be a bit harder to find. He heads into a bar, intending to ask if there are any Genai in town. He ends up not needing to; as he sits down at the bar, there’s a commotion a few stools down. A man has attempted to stick his hand down a woman’s shirt and she’s sent him reeling with a solid punch to the face. The bartender doesn’t even give him time to wipe his bloody nose before tossing him out of the bar.

Ford quickly abandons his stool and follows him out into the street. The man is stumbling---obviously very drunk---and unaware of being followed. Ford follows him for three or so blocks before he gets his chance. The man makes the mistake of going into a shadowed alleyway where Ford quickly knocks him unconscious.

Dragging him back to the stargate without being noticed takes some effort, but Ford manages it. The sizable lump on the back of the man’s head ensures that even the portal can’t wake him up. Aiden drags him through the long grass back to the house, dumping him near the stair before opening the door. He can’t help but shout:

“Honey, I’m home!”

Micheal appears from the kitchen, hair still ruffled in bedhead that Aiden does his best not to find cute. Aiden hands him the perishable groceries and he begins to put them away without complaint. While he’s distracted, Aiden finishes dragging the man inside, not bothering to get him off the floor. Then he joins Michael in the kitchen, commenting smugly:

“I found a solution for our problem yesterday.”

Micheal puts the last block of cheese away and turns to look at Aiden, confusion and shame on his face. Aiden points at the pair of feet visible through the doorway and Michael looks shocked.

“A Lantean would never allow me to feed on a human.”

Ford laughs and pushes him towards the unconscious man.

“First of all, I'm not like the other Lanteans. Second of all, he doesn’t deserve to live anyways, so go right ahead.”

Michael circles the unconscious man, still staring at him like he’s not sure he’s allowed. Aiden takes a seat; he’s not especially excited about watching a human get eaten in front of him, but it doesn’t quite seem fair to not watch since he’s pretty much sentenced him to death. Micheal stops circling, his entire body leaning towards the man, and looks up at Aiden as if he’s waiting for permission. Aiden nods and braces himself.

Micheal kneels next to the man, slowly unwrapping his hands. The feeding mouths gaping in his palms scare Aiden less than they did before; Michael had already had a chance to use them on him and he had decided not to. It’s weird, trusting a wraith, but Aiden can truthfully say he trusts Michael.

Michael hesitates one more second before he pulls his hand back in the wraith’s striking pose and strikes. The man doesn't even get a chance to wake up and scream; he dies instantly. He doesn’t even look that much older. Aiden frowns down at him:

“You must have been really hungry. I’ve never seen it happen that fast before.”

Micheal looks at him, bewildered, and shakes his head.

“I do not know what happened, but I did not successfully feed.”

Aiden feels the beginning of fear trickle in.

“What do you mean?”

Micheal looks down at his hands, brow furrowing as he tries to figure it out.

“He died too fast for me to suction away any of his life.”

The realization hit him like a truck.

“The enzyme, it prolongs their life...”

Michael sighs with understanding, slumping down.

“My body must not be producing the enzyme, so I cannot properly feed.”

He carefully avoids mentioning why he doesn’t have any enzyme, but Aiden knows well enough who’s fault that is. Still, he doesn’t understand how this could have happened.

“But don’t you guys regenerate like crazy? Why wouldn’t your enzyme do that too?”

Michael shrugs.

“Perhaps that is not one of the systems that can regenerate so completely. Or perhaps it is because of my hybrid tendencies. If I had a laboratory, I could probably find out. But I do not think it matters much now.”

Ford shakes off the guilt; he doesn’t need to think, he needs to take action!

“What can I do to help?”

Michael waves him off, a small smile on his face.

“You have helped me enough already, Aiden. I do not think this is something that can be fixed. Please, let's not discuss it anymore.”

Aiden grits his teeth; he’s not willing to accept that a thoughtless, unimportant decision of his may have condemned Michael to death. And yet, there isn’t much he can do. He’s a soldier and a survivor, but not a scientist. Even if he went out and stole scientific equipment, he can’t use it himself and he can’t force Michael to ethier. 

Damn it, Ford is no stranger to being suicidal, but watching it in someone else is new and intensely frustrating. But really, there is nothing he can do; as far as they know Michael is going to waste away do matter what they do. Ford bites down the bitterness and distracts himself by dragging the body out of the house and into the plains. The easy, repetitive motion of digging a grave is strangely soothing.

\--------


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> none

\--------

The room is dark and they’ve settled in for the night. Michael is comfortable, sleepily content in the bed. Aiden however, is tossing and turning on the couch on the other side of the room. He’s been sleeping there for the many days that Michael has been on this planet and his sleep has been getting progressively worse. Micheal has felt that couch; while initially soft, it must be painful to sleep on for long periods of time.

Michael has no idea why he insists on sleeping on the couch. The humans in Atlantis had been the same way; each human had their own bed. Even then, Michael had felt cold without his hivemate’s bodies to keep him warm. But he understands that humans have strange quirks that are very important to them , so he hasn’t asked Aiden about it. But now, with the human’s discomfort so silently obvious, he can’t help but whisper across the room:

“Aiden, there is enough room in this bed for two.”

The shifting stops and michael can hear him breathe deep and controlled in the heavy silence. There is something important here, strung tight under their words and woven in amongst the blankets, something that Michael doesn’t understand yet. Something that makes Aiden pause for so long, maybe with fear or maybe anticipation. Something that makes him speak slowly and carefully when he finally replies:

“Sharing a bed isn’t necessarily that easy, micheal. For humans, it means you’re really close with someone.”

Micheal still can’t find the hidden meaning, so he resigns himself to stumbling through the conversation blind.

“I consider us close, Aiden.”

Ford laughs, a choked noise of disbelief.

“I do too, Michael. But there’s a lot you don’t understand.”

Micheal sighs and rolls his eyes, confident that Aiden can’t see him in the dark.

“Then whatever it is you’re worried about can’t possibly bother me. I am not trying to pressure you into something that will make you uncomfortable, but if you wish, you may join me in the bed at any time.”

Aiden’s response to that is a sigh and a silence so long that Michael is half asleep by the time he hears him get out of bed. The wood floor creaks slightly as he pads over to the bed. He hesitates once again, but then he pulls the covers down in preparation to lie down. Micheal rolls over, making room for him. Aiden fidgets for a couple more moments, changing positions and tugging at the sheets.

Finally, they’ve settled into a comfortable, warm silence. Aiden lets his eyes slip closed and whispers:

“Thank you.”

Micheal sighs, relief filling him at finally seeming to break down this particular barrier.

“Thank you for joining me. And I promise you, whatever it is that is concerning you, is not a big deal.”

Ford huffs out a laugh, but when he opens his eyes to look at Michael there’s something soft and vulnerable in his eyes.

“I hope so.”

\-----


	9. chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> mention of consent issues

\---------

Michael is still relearning human body language, but he knows something has changed between him and Aiden after their conversation last night. He watches michael with different eyes now, and his touches linger longer. Before, he always seemed hesitant when he let his fingers brush Michael’s shoulder or when handing him a mug, like he doesn’t feel like he should. Michael pushes down the hissing, hateful part of him that insists it’s disgust at his mutated self.

He tries to think of the humans he saw on Atlantis, how touch was so important to them, more important than vibrations or scents. Teyla, attempting to comfort him with a hand on the shoulder when he was frightened. His fake parent’s arms wrapped around each other in the picture. Scientists, holding hands in the hallways. His own hand extended to Ronon is what was meant as a human peaceful gesture.

He thinks of how many definitions of closeness humans have, and the many more that wraith add to the equation. He tries to wrap his head around Ford saying he could desire him, tries to fit into place with the self hatred that has settled into every part of himself. He had done his best to resign himself to being worthless after the first queen had declared him unfit to even join the telepathy of her hive, let alone it’s gene pool. Now, Aiden is here with human promises and definitions that Michael doesn’t fully understand but desperately wants to believe in nonetheless.

He has human in him as well and wraith, and though his first introduction to humanhood had not gone well, perhaps he can still claim some of it. Maybe he can leave the wraith values that rejected him behind and find something of worth in the human versions instead. Maybe eventually he’ll understand why Aiden looks at him like that. Whatever Aiden’s intentions, Michael is enjoying the increased affection: his mind still feels terribly empty and his body cold without hivemates.

Ford’s body heat is much higher than Michael’s as he is more human, and it makes his touch blaze against Michael’s skin. The warmth he exudes makes Micheal long to press closer to him, but he understands humans are not as physically close as wraith within a hive are. He does not want to stumble across any of Aiden’s boundaries and make him uncomfortable. Even so, when Aiden does touch him, he leans into it. He wants to soak up as much heat and affection from Ford as he can; it feels like he is starving for those things as much as he was for life before.

He enters the main room and is happy to see that Aiden is curled up in bed for the night; he warms the sheets and Michael especially enjoys their sleepy night time conversations. Ford moves to welcome Michael into the bed but otherwise remains silent. He is contemplative and withdrawn tonight so Michael does not attempt to start a conversation. He just curls into the softness of the sheets and feels the bed shift as Aiden does the same.

There is a long stretch of silence; Michael watches Ford’s back move with long, slow breaths. He never faces Michael while in the bed. He can only assume it’s another human privacy thing. So when Aiden shifts and rolls over to face him, Michael is instantly fully awake. Something so unusual must be important.

Ford just looks at him for a moment, his eyes different like they have been, heavy with something as he takes in every one of Michael’s features. Slowly, so slowly it feels like he’s barely moving, he reaches out with a hand, pressing it to the side of Michael’s face. Michael doesn’t bother to stop the pleased vibration from buzzing in his chest. It’s a brave, blatant touch compared to anything from before. Micheal tries not to think about how much he wants to stay like this forever; he doubts Aiden will continue this way, that undefined something will probably cause him to pull away again.

He lets his eyes slip closed, entirely focused on the hand like a brand on his cheek. He’s caught off guard when Aiden speaks---without removing the hand:

“Is this okay?”

Micheal wants to laugh; he’s been longing for more affection from Ford for days and yet even now he’s hesitant. Humans, he understands, are greatly concerned with consent, which for wraith doesn’t even exist. But he must admit, know that concept hangs between them, an escape route that he can take at any time, comforts him greatly. It allows him to be totally confident as he responds:

“Yes.”

He opens his eyes to see Ford biting his lip nervously. The hand on Micheal’s face shakes slightly and he can practically feel the nervous energy radiating from Aiden. He’s so well trained, so potentially deadly, that it’s easy to forget that he’s also just a scared, traumatized person. Fortunately for him, Michael is just as absolutely useless in social situations as he is. Michael can only remember the barest guidelines of human behavior and Ford’s brain is so muddled he’s at about the same level.

It’s only through time and space that they’ve managed to calm themselves to the point where they can live together in this house. Michael thinks time is what Aiden needs right now: time and space. Time to think through what’s making him nervous, space to not be pressured. So he leans into the hand on his cheek and doesn’t say anything more, waiting for Aiden to make the next move. He finally seems to reach a decision and pulls himself closer to Micheal before whispering:

“I’d like to kiss you.”

Micheal does startle at that; it wasn’t what he was expecting. He knows the importance of kissing to humans, having seen a couple in the Atlantian mess hall and doing his best to research the concept once he could. It has somewhat heavy connotation, sexual and romantic, both of which wraith usually suppress. But they are not without such feelings and Michael is not unfamiliar with them. They are hidden from the queens, but otherwise they thrive in the hives. Michael had never found anyone who had loved him in either of those ways, and he thinks he would like to.

He raises a hand, laying it over the one Aiden has pressed against his face, and hums softly.

“Go ahead, but---”

He pulls his lips back to bare his fangs, pricking his tongue on his incisor to make the point.

“---be careful.”

Aiden laughs breathlessly and leans in, kissing him slow, and indeed, carefully. Michael is filled with a feeling he’d been feeling for the past few days, though not this strongly. He wants to wrap himself around Aiden and never let go. He wants kisses like this all the time, when he wakes up and Aiden brings him the customary cup of tea and when they go to bed at night. He wants to feel comfortable enough with Aiden, and vice versa, that the touches last longer and the hesitation fades.

Aiden pulls away, eyes affectionate but also a touch overwhelmed. Micheal can feel that they’ve taken a big step forwards and that perhaps they should rest before pushing any further. So he smiles at Aiden, letting himself relax into the bed, and remarks:

“I think we should get some sleep.”

It’s a combination of frustrating and freeing that everything between them takes so much time and thought. Michael is still used to the reckless rush of wraith life, so different from human expectations. Taking the time and care to not trample any of Aiden boundaries---and not to cross any of his own---can seem overwhelmingly slow. Even so, he knows that it’s so slow because they’re building a relationship that will last far longer than the short lived, ever changing alliances of a hive. Humans often maintain relationships for years on end, and Michael is beginning to want that stability.

Ford, too, seems relieved by the easing off and nods gratefully. 

“Yeah. sounds good.”

He removes his hand, leaving Micheal’s cheek feeling terribly cold. Yet, he curls closer than he even has before as he settles down to sleep. Micheal smiles to himself; they are not quite touching, but the closeness is important nonetheless

\-------


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\--------

Michael wakes slowly, his body curling into the cold spot where Ford had been sleeping before. Michael, now that he is no longer following the rigid schedule of a hive, enjoys sleeping late into the morning. Aiden is the opposite; he always rises early, finishing a multitude of chores before Michael even begins to wake. Michael has offered to assist with them before and he has always refused. A combination of the human idea of hospitality, and the fact that the steady routine of chores helps him stay focused, Michael thinks.

So every morning, Michael rises lazily, stretching in the gentle morning sunlight. The heavy scents of human cooking waft into the room, making his nose twitch with the pungent spice and sweetness. Even so, it’s pleasant to see Aiden totally at ease, stirring something in a pan and humming softly to himself. Michael steps up from the bed onto the smooth wood floor, the creaking of the wood paneling alerting Aiden to his approach. Still stirring smoothly, he turns to smile at Michael, making his body warm with the affection in that expression. 

Michael comes up behind him, pressing a hand to the curve of his back, glorying in the ability to make such a motion. Aiden hums happily, leaning into him, his head falling onto Michael’s shoulder. Michael holds him close with one arm, reaching out to the counter to look into a covered bowl with an especially strong scent. Inside are red fruits, small and somewhat deformed, obviously freshly picked from the garden. They would not win any prizes, but Aiden looks down at them proudly; they must be the first he has harvested. 

He takes such pride in growing things, taking care of their fragile stems and leaves and allowing them to thrive. It makes Michael happy to see a man capable of such violence, with such a violent past, doing something so...harmless. Wraith would not see the value in it, but despite Michael’s inability to eat the products of the garden, he finds the process of growing them beautiful. The delicate veins of the leaves, the soft petals of their flowers, the way they reach towards the sun. It makes him feel...hopeful.

Aiden is alternating between watching his pan and watching Michael, his eyes glowing with something soft and loving. Michael’s chest is full with hope and affection, struggling against the eternal burn of the hunger. He leans in closer to Aiden, watching the lazy fluttering of his eyelids as he blinks. He is content in Michael’s arms and that makes Michael feel like he is choking up, pride and fear at being trusted so intensely. He is brimming with so many feelings, crystallizing into want.

He lets his head fall forwards, gently pressing their foreheads together. They stay entangled, Aiden still slowly stirring, their pulses beating together as one. Michael whispers, not wanting to break the spell, but unwilling to continue without asking:

“Okay?” 

Aiden smiles and nods.

“Yeah.”

Michael could worry about how weak he has become, to love a human in so many ways, or how he didn’t deserve this. Or he could just enjoy it because he’s going to starve to death in a few days anyways. It’s nice to think that after only being able to remember this last year of his life, filled with suffering, that he could end with such gracefulness and peacefulness. 

Michael moves slowly, carefully slotting their faces together to kiss him. They’re all wrapped up in each other and Aiden kisses back lazily. The kitchen feels like it’s soaked in honey, slow and sweet. He tastes like the fruit from before and it makes Michael hum affectionately. He pulls away hesitantly, but he wants to make sure he compliments Aiden’s gardening before he forgets to; he knows he’s intensely proud of the small batch of fruit he’s managed.

Michael knows eating one will make the life-hunger worse, but he wants to know what they’re like, so he snags the smallest one possible. It bursts easily under his fangs, filling his mouth with a sharp but sweet flavor. Aiden watches him make a face at the tartness with fond amusement. Michael waits for the flavor to stop making his tongue ache before he smiles at Aiden.

“They’re wonderful.”

Aiden stares discerningly for a moment and then laughs, elbowing him good naturedly

“How would you know? You’ve obviously never had a raspberry.” 

Micheal shrugs; he’s been caught.

“The fact that you could get them to grow at all amazes me.”

Ford grins, that beautiful sunshiny smile that takes up his whole face. It makes Michael feel warm, starting in his chest and spreading out to his limbs. He leans in, overwhelmed by the feelings swirling inside his chest, and presses his forehead to Aiden’s. Ford sighs and nuzzles into the touch, bumping their noses together. They stand in silence for a long moment until Ford suddenly pulls away. His face has gone sober, and when he speaks his voice is serious:

“Michael, I have to ask you...”

Michael tries to ignore the fear clawing at his chest, fear caused by the sudden weight in Ford’s voice. He raises a hand to stroke Ford’s cheek, bracing himself for the question:

“What, dearest?”

Ford leans into Michael’s touch, pressing his cheek deeper into Michael’s palm. His eyes fall closed for a moment and then open again, staring piercingly into Micheal’s as he speaks.

“Are you happy here?”

Michael laughs, overcome with relief. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but that wasn’t it.

“Of course I am.”

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to Ford’s lips, feeling him smile into the kiss. When he pulls away he continues:

“I am happy here, with you and your tea and your garden. I’m happy in a way I didn’t think I ever would be. My life had become nothing but fear and pain and confusion and I never thought it could be different. I didn’t think I would ever heal. I’m not done healing by any means, but it was here that I began to take the first steps. When you found me in that hive ship and cut me free, you changed my life in ways I couldn’t have even imagined before. So thank you, Aiden. Thank you for shattering the life I had been living and showing me a new way to live.”

Ford smiles a crooked grin and watches Michael with lovestruck eyes. He presses his face into Michael’s shoulder and hugs him tighter, mumbling:

“I have to thank you too, Micheal. I had thought I was all alone in the universe. You showed me that I wasn’t. If you hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be now. I was despairing, I was consumed by my sorrow and vengefulness. You gave me something else to think about. You were a friend when I thought I had none. So thank you, Micheal.”

Michael nods and then throws his head back in a full throated laugh.

“What a pair we make. Who would have ever thought we would get along without killing each other, let alone love each other?”

\-------


	11. Chapter 11

\--------

Micheal swings his legs out over the edge of the bed, pausing a moment to collect himself. Ford stands up from their shared bed and pads into the kitchen, where he readies the kettle for their morning tea.

Micheal drops his head into his hand, rubbing roughly at his eyes. He feels terribly sick today, with the life-hunger clawing at his stomach and chest. He pulls his hands away from his face to rub over the soft skin of his stomach.

Suddenly, his stomach lets out a loud grumble. He stares at it in consternation; he’s never had that happen before. Why would his stomach be rumbling? He needs to feed on life force, not human food. He decides to simply write it off as a strange happening, but just then Ford returns to the room. 

He looks at Micheal’s hands clasped over his stomach, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

Before Micheal can nod and change the subject, his stomach betrays him by letting out a second, louder grumble.

Ford peers at him, squinting suspiciously.

“Are you...hungry?”

Micheal snarls, irritated by the conversation turning to this subject.

“Of course I’m hungry. But I can’t feed on life, remember?”

Ford frowns and steps closer, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, I know that. But what if you’re hungry in a different way? In the way that humans are?”

Micheal considers it for a moment, but it seems too far fetched. Wraith have no need for human food. Before he can speak, Ford is grabbing his arm and pulling him up. Michael hisses:

“What are you doing?”

Ford continues tugging at him, pulling him into the kitchen and plunking him down at the kitchen table. Ford responds:

“Testing a theory.”

He pulls a pre prepared sandwich from the fridge, sets it on a plate and places it in front of Michael. Micheal stares at it.

Ford waits a long moment and then nudges him.

“Come on, eat it. It won’t kill you.”

Michael sighs.

“It will do me no good either.”

Ford rolls his eyes and pushes the plate closer.

“Come on. Just try it.”

Michael sinks into the chair, pouting, feeling like a sullen child. But he finally reaches out and takes a bite of his sandwich. Ford smiles at that and Michael continues taking small bites to appease him.

To his surprise, something seems to be happening. The pain of the life-hunger slowly begins to fade. He stares at the sandwich in shock before stuttering:

“I think it’s working!”

Ford grins, childishly excited.

“Really?”

Micheal begins to cram the sandwich down his throat, speaking through a mouthful of food:

“Now that my body can no longer feed on life, my redundant stomach and digestive organs must have activated. This is amazing!”

Ford laughs and jumps a couple times, throwing his arms around Michael in an enthusiastic hug.

“This means you can eat human food and won’t starve to death!”

Michael finishes the sandwich, licking mustard off his fingers.

“And what potential this has for the wraith as a species! We could no longer depend on humans for food, possibly coexist peacefully with you!”

Ford sighs and nuzzles into Michael’s shoulder.

“You know I love you, right?”

Micheal distractedly responds.

“Yes and I love you too. But come on, I want to eat everything!”

\-----


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\-------

It’s a peaceful evening, with a gentle rain falling and pattering on the roof. They sit in the living room, snuggled up under blankets. Michael is on the couch, carefully repairing a hole in one of his socks. Next to him is a container of fresh tomatoes from the garden. Eating is still novel to him and he takes every opportunity to try new foods, especially ones that Aiden has grown.

Aiden sits in an armchair, slowly knitting a scarf in preparation for this planet’s winter. He has only recently taught himself to knit, so it still takes up a lot of focus. 

He wants to talk with Micheal about something, but he’s not sure how it’s going to go over. He hesitates for a long moment before he finally speaks:

“I’d like to try going to Atlantis soon.”

Micheal puts down his mending with a long sigh. He collects his thoughts for a moment before he speaks:

“I understand why you want to go back. But I hope you can also understand that it will be hard for me to return there. My first memories of that place is terror, being dehumanized and used. And worse is the shame I feel. I truly wanted to feed on Teyla when I first escaped. I would not do it now, but how do I face her having told her that? She was the only one to show me compassion when I desperately needed it.”

Ford nods and reaches out to take Michael’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. 

“I understand that I’m asking a lot of you. But if I know Teyla, she will be willing to forgive you, now that you’ve changed. If it helps, I’ve threatened to kill my team before too. I still expect them to forgive me. And I promise you, I will not remain in Atlantis if they mistreat you. I will not stand for it. I’ll leave if they do.”

Micheal collapses forward into Aiden’s chest, seeking comfort. He curls into his embrace, pillowing his head on Aiden’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Aiden smiles sadly and holds him close, rocking him slightly.

“You’re welcome.”

After a few minutes of silence, Ford speaks again:

“Can I pet your hair?”

To his surprise, Michael flinches away at the question, pulling away to keep his head out of reach. Aiden rushes to apologize:

“I’m sorry if I’ve crossed a boundary, it’s just an affectionate thing humans do. I won’t do it if you’re not comfortable.”

Micheal nods, still keeping distance between them but looking less disturbed. 

“I understand why you asked. You have not offended me, but I would prefer if you did not. Wraith hair is not hair as you understand it, it is a sensory organ that we use to sense each other’s telepathy. As such, it is extremely sensitive. That is why I reacted so strongly.”

Aiden reacts with wonder, which was unexpected.

“Wow, I didn’t know that. I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about the wraith. Is that why all the wraith keep their hair long?”

Michael nods, before reaching out to take Aiden’s hand again and continuing:

“Yes, it is necessary to have good broadcasting and receiving of our telepathy. That is mainly how we communicate amongst ourselves.”

Ford’s smiles suddenly drops and he sobers.

“Does it bother you that your hair is short?”

Micheal looks down sadly, a previously hidden pain rising to the surface.

“Yes. It has made me unable to communicate telepathically when I was part of hives, which contributed to my ostracism. It will grow back, but it is a slow process.”

Aiden looks sad, but there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m sorry.”

Micheal shrugs.

“I understand it was not deliberately malicious on Atlantis’s part. They did not know. But still, I wonder if I would have been accepted had I still had my telepathy.”

Ford hesitated but then asks:

“Do you wish you had been accepted? That you could have stayed with a hive?”

Micheal chuckles softly, considering that.

“That is a big question, Aiden. I still have wraith impulses that are hard to ignore. The urge to feed, the urge to serve a queen, the urge to be part of something bigger than myself; a hive. Still, would not have wanted to remain with a hive. That would have meant I would never met you. I would never have changed. Perhaps I would still be out there, feeding on innocent humans. I cannot stand to think of myself still living that life.”

Ford hums understandingly, leaning forwards to press a kiss to Michael’s forehead.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

There’s another long pause before Aiden returns to his original subject:

“So, I’m going to start working on uplink to communicate with Atlantis. I’ll make sure it’s secure and that they can’t track us to this planet. And once we talk with them we can decide what to do. Is that okay?”

Micheal nods.

“Yes, that is acceptable.”

Ford stands excitedly, dropping his knitting and quickly forgetting about it.

“Great, I’ll get started then!”

—————


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> none

\--------

John runs up the stairs to the gateroom, listening for the crackle of his radio. Elizabeth had radioed him and asked him to come to the gate room, but she didn’t say any more than that. If it was an emergency she would have told him, but still, he rushes to get there. He comes around the corner and jogs up the staircase to the viewing area with all the control consoles. As he draws closer he can see his team, gathered around and staring at a screen. On the screen is what must be an incoming transmission, a person…

“Ford?”

His friends turn at his voice and Teyla and Ronon scoot over, making room for him in their half circle. On the screen, Ford breaks into one of his sunshiny smiles.

“Hello there, Colonel.”

John shakes his head in disbelief and puts his hands on his hips.

“You unbelievably lucky bastard. I knew you’d make it off the hive ship.”

Ford smirks.

“Just barely made it before it blew up. I imagine that was your doing?”

John nods.

“Yep, got the two hives to fire on each other. Turns out they are territorial, just like you said.”

Ford nods, still smiling widely. He looks overjoyed to see them.

“Good, good.”

There’s a moment of silence as John looks at Elizabeth, wondering if she wants to speak, and she looks back at him, expecting him to go ahead. He shrugs and continues:

“So buddy...are you mayhaps going to tell us where you are?”

Ford laughs sarcastically and John’s heart sinks.

“Yeah, so you can show up with a bunch of marines and take me by force? I don’t think so.”

There’s a longer moment of silence as John tries to figure out what to do.

“Alright then, why are you calling us? Do you need something?”

Ford returns to his happy state.

“No, I’m safe right now. But I am calling you because...I’d like to come back to Atlantis at some point in the future. I’m on much less of the enzyme, my head is much clearer now, I promise.”

John turns to Elizabeth for position, pleading with his eyes. She quickly steps forwards and jumps in:

“Of course you can come back, Lt. Ford. We’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

Ford grins wider, throwing a glance off screen as if he’s looking at someone. That makes John’s brow furrow with curiosity. Ford continues:

“Thank you, Dr. Weir. I really appreciate it. There’s just one problem. You see...I’m not alone.”

John catches his breath at that. He doesn’t know what to expect; did some of Ford’s gang survive? On screen, Ford is gesturing to someone offscreen to come over. There’s a moment of hesitation and then someone comes into view.

John jumps and hears Teyla gasp:

“Michael?”

The man stares at them from the screen, yellow slit eyes as malevolent looking as ever. Ford sits next to him, expectantly waiting for a reaction, smile undimmed. Michael speaks:

“Yes, it is really me. I survived the planet you attempted to destroy me on and met Ford. We have become...friends. He has convinced me to return to Atlantis with him.”

They all look at Weir, aware the situation has changed. She hesitates:

“Lt. Ford, Micheal is a significant security threat. I am not sure we can allow him back on Atlantis.”

Ford frowns.

“But you have to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we’ve learned how to stop the wraith from feeding while still keeping them alive. We’re willing to share it with you in exchange for passage onto Atlantis for both of us.”

\---------


	14. chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: 
> 
> none

\------

Weir sits at the head of the table as they enter the meeting room, looking as in control and regal as ever. Sheppard takes a seat next to Ronon and Teyla and across from Mckay. Dr. Beckett is the last one to join them, taking a seat next to Rodney. Elizabeth clears her throat and speaks:

“Thank you all for coming. I’ve called this meeting because I would like your opinions on the situation with Ford and Michael.”

Ronon grunts and quickly adds his opinion:

“We can’t trust them.”

Sheppard sighs and throws in his own two cents:

“I agree we should be cautious with them, but I still think we should allow them to come back. This is the first time Ford has shown willingness to return, we may never get another chance. And for Michael, his returning may be a good thing. That way we know he’s not out there spreading all the sensitive information he knows around the galaxy.”

Beckett nods in agreement and adds his support:

“Aye, I agree. If they really have a way to prevent wraith from feeding without changing them, especially since they have supposedly already effected this change on Michael, this may not be an offer we can turn down. If we could weaponize it, and change all the wraith in the galaxy, there would be no need to fight them anymore. ”

Teyla joins in:

“And despite Micheal’s reverison to wraith and his subsequent attacks on us, I still feel we have a responsibility to him. If he is willing to return to Atlantis, perhaps he is attempting to turn over a new leaf?”

Sheppard shrugs and adds:

“And once he’s here we can always just throw him in a cell if we need to.”

Elizabeth nods and speaks her final word:

“Thank you all for your input. I have been thinking along the same lines, and have decided that we will allow them to return. However, we must remain vigilant. Sheppard, I want four guards on them at all times, and extra guards in the gate room. Understood?”

Sheppard nods and rises from his seat.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll change the assignments right now.”

She smiles gratefully at him and also stands.

“Thank you. I’ll let Ford know our decision.”

—————

After the Atlantis transmission cuts out, the Lanteans taking time to discuss Ford and Micheal’s proposition, Micheal stands up from the couch abruptly. He snarls to himself and then begins pacing. Ford watches him with concern and asks:

“Are you okay?”

Micheal sighs and shakes his head, frustration clear on his face.

“Yes I am alright, there is just so much riding on this. If they say yes, so much of our life will change.”

Ford rises from the couch and joins him, pulling him into a hug.

“It will all be okay, Micheal. I promise. Things will change, yes, but it’ll be a good change.”

Michael smiles ruefully.

“I almost hope they won’t answer. Or they say no. Either way, it would make it so much easier.”

Ford smiles, understanding exactly how he feels. It would be so much less stressful to stay here, on their nice little planet. 

“I know, love. But the easy route isn’t always the right one.”

Michael nods, his soft breaths ghosting across Ford’s chest.

“I know. But the future is so terrifying, I don’t feel ready for it.”

Ford laughs, holding him tighter.

“But you are! You are stronger than most people I know, Michael. This will not break you, no matter how it goes. You have the strength to get through it. You just have to believe that.”

Micheal’s eyes fall closed as he considers that.

“I’ll try.”

Just then the communications array beeps with an incoming call. Ford looks at it and asks Micheal:

“Are you ready for this?”

Micheal nods:

“Yes. Let’s see what they say.”

—————-


	15. chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: 
> 
> none

\---------

Micheal and Ford step through the gate and into Atlantis, craning their heads to look around the tall room. All eyes are on them, and all the military personal in the room are not so subtly clutching their guns. There are four military men waiting by the gate and they move in closer to bracket Michael and Ford as soon as they’re through. Ford ignores them, smiling as widely as ever, his eyes flitting around the place that used to be his home. Michael stands perfectly still at his side, head held haughtily high and arms crossed over his chest.

The tense silence is broken as John Sheppard saunters forwards, footsteps ringing loud in comparison to the prior silence. He stops a few feet away from the visitors, demeanor perfectly casual, but one hand rests on the butt of his holstered pistol. He looks them over: taking in the rough sewn fabric and hand knit shawls they wear. Ford wonders what they must look like to him; they look more like the natives of pegasus than they do an Lantean or a wraith. Ford hopes that may put the Lanteans more at ease, but he doubts it.

Sheppard leans forwards and finally speaks:

“Ford. Michael. Welcome back to Atlantis.”

It’s not unfriendly, but it is formal, distant in a way that makes Ford’s smile drop. He didn’t exactly expect to be welcomed back with open arms but it still hurts to see the chasm that has opened between him and his former commanding officer. He longs for the friendly banter they used to exchange, but knows that it would be inappropriate now. They are no longer friends, but not quite enemies. They are something tentative, something raw, something that could shatter at the slightest jostling.

Ford stays silent, too full of aching to speak. Fortunately Michael steps forwards and inclines his head in a polite nod, answering:

“Thank you, Colonel Sheppard. We are glad to be here.”

Sheppard smiles at that, a brittle, disbelieving grin. Micheal’s lips twitch at that as he struggles to hide how much he truly does not want to be here. Ford steps closer to him, not touching, but comforting with his simple closeness. Some, but not all, of the tension leaves Michael’s shoulders.

Before they can continue their awkward conversation with Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir appears at the top of the stairs. She stands silhouetted by the window behind her, as imposing and calm a presence as always. She smiles down at them and Ford’s heart rises slightly at the willingness to forgive he sees in her. He has to remind himself that she can be just as fierce and merciless as anyone else on Atlantis. She will listen to them and make an objective assessment of the situation before making a rational, fair decision. Ford knows that is the best they can hope for.

She rushes down the steps and strides over to them, unconcernedly sticking out a hand for Ford to shake.

“Lt. Ford. Welcome back.”

Ford takes the offered hand and shakes, impressed by Dr. Weir’s strong grip. She lets go and then turns to Michael, considering him for a moment. She does not offer to shake his hand, instead nodding to him.

“Michael. Welcome back.”

Michael is impassive, with only a hint of a snarl at the edges of his mouth. Ford knows how difficult this is for him, having to calmly face down the person who had ordered for his life to be destroyed. Ford wishes it wasn’t so, but there are lots of bad things that have happened that none of them can fix. All they can do now is live with the consequences. Finally Michael nods back, but doesn’t speak. It seems to be enough for Elizabeth as she turns away from them and gestures towards the stairs.

“Shall we go to the conference room? We have some questions to ask you, as I’m sure you do of us.”

Ford gives her a smile and starts walking.

“Sounds perfect.”

Michael keeps pace at his shoulder, steps military precise. The four military Atlantis personnel trail along behind them, as does Sheppard. Ford can’t help but ask:

“I presume these guards will be staying with us.”

Elizabeth smiles a tight smile at him, her eyes sharp as she replies:

“I’m afraid so. I’m sure you understand we must take precautions.”

They step into the conference room. When michael speaks, it’s with a barely controlled, simmering rage hiding under his voice:

“Of course. How else would you treat a wraith?”

There’s a long moment of silence as Elizabeth’s pleasant facade almost slips. But she quickly recovers, gesturing at the table and it’s surrounding chairs.

“Please, sit.”

Already at the table are four people: Teyla, Mckay, Beckett , and Ronon. Ronon has taken the chair furthest possible from them, not even attempting to hide the hatred on his face. Mckay sits next to him, obviously nervous, tapping his fingers on the table in a repetitive rhythm. Beckett is next to McKay, a notebook on the table in front of him. Teyla sits much closer, her face guarded, but with curiosity peeking through. When she spots Michael, there’s a flicker of pain and fear across her face, quickly hidden.

Ford takes a seat, speaking as he does so:

“I must say how wonderful it is to see you all again.”

No one responds. Ford tries his best not to grimace and reaches to take Michael’s hand under the table.

Sheppard and Weir quickly take their seats and then they are all settled. Ford leans forwards and asks:

“So, you have questions?”  
\------------


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> discussions of death

\--------  
Ford gestures with his hands, spreading them open wide.

“Seriously, we’re an open book.”

Elizabeth looks amused at that, but quickly replies:

“Why don’t we start we the most important issue? Tell us how you have made it so that a wraith does not need to feed.”

Ford turns to Michael, raising an eyebrow to ask if he want to answer this. Micheal nods and leans forwards as he begins to speak:

“I am a successful first test subject. I no longer need to feed on life, I can instead sustain myself on human food. Despite this change I am still fully wraith.”

At that, he raises his hand to reveal his feeding mouth, making most of the table flinch. Then he continues:

“The other changes I have observed are that I am no longer able to heal as I once was. I am as easily injured as a human now. However, I retain my superior strength. I am unsure how this has affected my advanced lifespan. I may live as long as a wraith, or as short as a human. We may not know until I die.”

Dr Beckett pipes up, having been listening intently:

“This is all fascinating, but you still haven’t told us how the change was made.”

Micheal smiles at him, amused by his rush to get to the bottom of the issue.

“Indeed. It is very simple: remove the enzyme sac that injects our enzyme into victims. Once the sac is removed, the enzyme is no longer injected into the victim. Without it, the victim does not survive long enough for the wraith to feed, making it impossible to feed on humans any longer. At this point, the wraith’s redundant digestive system will activate and they will be able to survive on human food.”

Beckett’s eyebrows knit together as he asks:

“You’ve tested this, have you?”

Michael smiles viciously.

“We have. The victim still dies, but the wraith is unable to feed.”

Sheppard frowns and Ronon growls at that. Elizabeth throws them a warning look before asking:

“So how did you two come across this?”

Ford and Michael look at each other and share a smile. Ford starts:

“It’s a funny story, actually. I was on my own again, having escaped the hive ship, so I needed more enzyme. I started making runs on hive ships. Now, since I was trying to be a better person at this point, I decided to try and rescue someone while I was there.”

Teyla and Sheppard smile at that. Elizabeth seems approving. That’s a good sign; they need all the good will they can get. He continues:

“So, I wind up in the feeding room, and to my surprise, instead of a human there’s a wraith. Now, I imagine you can guess that was Michael. Well, I figured a wraith is a wraith and I start cutting his enzyme sack out of his arm. Once I’m finished I’m ready to leave when he speaks to me.”

Ford looks to Michael, waiting for him to take over. He does, saying:

“Yes, I asked him to kill me. I’m sure you can understand my motivation; being fed on is not a death I look forward to. To my surprise, instead of doing so, he began cutting me free.”

Ford shrugs and adds in:

“I was curious. Wanted to know why the wraith would feed on one of their own.”

Michael nods and continues:

“He took me to a safe planet, where I began to heal from my wounds. It took us a long time to come to trust each other, but we eventually did. Then we first attempted to have me feed and discovered I could not. At first we assumed I would simply starve to death, but a few days later we discovered I could eat human food. Really, this discovery was an accident the whole way.”

Elizabeth smiles at them.

“Well, it’s certainly a fascinating story. And it’s quite impressive that you came to trust each other. I hope we can do the same. In the meantime, I would like to have Dr. Beckett examine you, Michael.”

Michael nods, though Ford can see him tense at the suggestion. Dr Beckett and Elizabeth stand and head for the door, Michael, Ford, and their contingent of guards following.

\----------


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> none

\-------

Dr. Beckett puts Michael through a full examination: running him under the scanner, feeling at his neck, listening to his breathing. Ford hovers nearby the whole time, doing his best to be comforting. He can feel Michael’s distress even though he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He wants to take his hand, but is unwilling to do so in front of their audience. The nature of his and Michael’s relationship is best kept secret he thinks, at least for now.

Beckett steps back and motions that Michael can put his jacket back on. He does, his motions defensive and hurried, like he can’t wait to get another barrier between him and the doctors hands. Ford’s worry only increases and he begins to plan how to react to an increasingly volatile situation.

Beckett steps over to the expectant crowd waiting for him, Elizabeth tilting her head in encouragement to speak. Beckett nods and speaks:

“Well, as far as I can tell he’s perfectly normal for a wraith. The scanner doesn’t notice any differences other than that his enzyme sac is missing and that his digestive system is activated, which we already knew.”

Elizabeth considers that and then nods.

“Good to hear, Dr. Beckett. Thank you.”

Before she can continue, Ford decides to make his move. He can see that Michael is breathing harder with every second and he knows he needs to do something. He speaks:

“Excuse me, but could Michael and I have a moment alone?”

There’s faint looks of surprise, but none of the Lanteans say anything about the strangeness of the request. Elizabeth smiles graciously and replies:

“Of course.”

The Lanteans shuffle out of the infirmary, Beckett going last and shutting the door behind him. It’s still not as private as Ford would like—he can hear nurses talking in the other room, which he knows means they can also hear him and Michael—but it will have to do. He turns to Michael, finally letting his concern show on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Now that they’re alone, Michael has curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his shoulders defensively. His head is bowed and Ford can see his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. Slowly, he raises his head and looks at Ford before speaking hesitantly:

“I am...alright.”

Ford laughs and sits down next to him, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers.

“You obviously aren’t alright.”

Micheal grins weakly at that:

“Why did you bother asking me then.”

Ford clicks his tongue and considers that.

“Good point, good point.”

They sit for a moment in silence. Ford runs his fingers in comforting circles on the back of michael’s palm. Slowly, he can feel him relaxing, slumping down to lean against Aiden’s side. Finally, Ford breaks the silence:

“Seriously though. Is there anything I can do to help? Do we need to leave?”

Michael’s eyes widen at the offer and he seriously considers it for a moment. Then he shakes his head, saying:

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary yet.”

Ford nods, secretly relieved. Despite all the bad memories associated with Atlantis, he really is glad to be home. But he meant it; if Michael said it was time to leave, he’d do it in a heartbeat. That is, assuming the Lanteans would let them leave. That’s still kind of up in the air. He shakes that thought off and continues:

“Well then, would you like to talk?”

Micheal sighs, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment and dropping his head on Ford’s shoulder. Finally he speaks:

“Yes, I should.”

Ford smiles at that; he knows exactly how it feels to not want to talk about something but know that you should. So he gently prods him:

“So, how are you feeling?”

Micheal shakes his head and snarls slightly, revealing his blunt fangs.

“I just hate being here. Everything I look at reminds me of what was done to me. Especially here, in the infirmary. Especially when I look at Dr. Beckett and Dr. Weir. They were the masterminds of the experiment and I can’t stand to look at them. They make me so angry, but worse they make me so afraid. They make me feel small and I hate it.”

Ford sighs and hugs him closer. He wishes he could make it so that Michael was never afraid again, but he can’t promise that.

“I’m sorry, love. But they can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

Michael’s eyes suddenly turn dark and he looks painfully intense.

“Could you really stop them.”

Ford gulps, a tinge of fear at having his own thoughts from earlier echoed. But he knows what his answer is, and he knows it’s true.

“I would stop them. I promise. I would do anything. I would kill, I would die, anything.”

The darkness slowly fades from Micheal and he stops looking so hunted. He sighs:

“Okay. I believe you.”

Ford smiles and gently gives him a peck on the lips. Than he asks:

“Anything else you need to get out?”

Michael sighs, chewing on his lip as he considers. 

“Yes.”

He’s worrying at the hem of his shirt and Ford squeezes his hand tighter, hoping to calm him. Michael continues:

“I feel so guilty when I look at Dr. Beckett. The last time I saw him I took him prisoner, strapped him to a table, and fully intended to kill him. How do I cope with that? I don’t know how to look these people in the eyes with both the weight of what was done to me and what I have done.”

Ford sighs. That’s a lot to address, and coping is something that only Michael can do for himself. Still, there are some steps he can take:

“Why don’t you start by apologizing? In the end, that’s really all you can do. Beckett doesn’t have to forgive you, but there’s not much you can do about that.”

Micheal smiles wryly.

“I hadn’t even thought of that. Thank you, Aiden.”

Aiden grins back.

“I aim to please.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Ford looks at Michael and he nods. Ford yells towards the door:

“Come in!”

Beckett opens the door half way and pokes his head in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting. I just want to make sure you were all right.”

Ford smiles; the doctor’s kindly manner hasn’t changed while he was gone.

“Thanks Doc. We’re fine, just talking. You want to bring everyone back in?”

Micheal stands abruptly.

“Wait.”

Beckett pauses and turns back, curiosity on his face. Michael steps forwards hesitantly, until he’s close to the doctor, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Beckett’s face does something complicated, eventually settling on confused.

“Sorry for what?”

Micheal hesitates, not looking him in the eye.

“For back on the planet. For taking you prisoner.”

Beckett laughs.

“Oh aye! Well I must say I wasn’t fan of it, but if you promise not to do it again I think I can forgive you.”

Micheal smiles, looking surprised at how well that turned out.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Beckett goes quiet for a long moment, looking as if he’s thinking hard. Then he speaks, his voice quiet and almost ashamed:

“I must ask your forgiveness as well, for what we did to you. At the time I thought it was necessary. But now I know it was wrong. I wouldn’t have done it to a human, why was a wraith any different? You were, are, still a sentient being deserving of respect, and we took that away from you. And for that, I am sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Ford sees Michael turn away from Beckett and his eyes are wet. That shakes Ford; he’s never seen Michael break down to the point of crying, even when he was starving and in so much pain he couldn’t think. Ford almost runs over to his side, pulling him into a hug and letting him bury his face is Ford’s shoulder, wetting his shirt with tears. Ford lets him hide there, in his arms. Beckett watches with sad, knowing eyes, and that only disturbs Ford further. Beckett speaks:

“You don’t need to say anything to me now. Take as much time as you need, even if your answer will still be no.”

Michael nods, face still smushed into Ford’s shoulder. Beckett adds

“When you’re ready, they want to see you in the conference room. Take your time.”

Ford nods and Beckett quickly leaves, giving them the peace and quiet they need to piece Michael back together.

\--------


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapterr:
> 
> none

As they walk through the halls to the conference room, Ford holds tightly onto Michael’s hand. Only once they have reached the conference room does he reluctantly let go. He isn’t ashamed of their relationship, but it’s still not something he wants his friends to know yet. He feels like they’d react badly, at worst with disgust. It is a hard pill to swallow: dating a wraith, but Michael is different. And not just because they’d experimented on him, or because he didn’t need to feed anymore. Ford thinks he must have been different from the beginning, but he has no way to be sure.

They finally make it to the conference room, hearing a low hum of conversation as they approach. Inside, Elizabeth is presiding over what seems to be a routine briefing. It makes Ford ache suddenly; he remembers when he was sitting through those briefings. As boring as they were, he misses the normalcy of it. He wonders if they’ll ever reach that point again. He hopes they will, but it’ll be a long process.

The conversation trails off into silence as they enter. Ronon, as expected, is glaring at them. Ford decides to wink his bad eye at him, just to see what would happen. Nothing does; he looks just impassive and wrathful as before. Sheppard and Teyla both give them hesitant smiles. Elizabeth smiles at them much more convincingly; perhaps her skill as a negotiator coming into play. 

“Welcome back. We were just discussing how best to approach spreading this new information amongst the wraith.”

Michael sits down looking doubtful. Ford knows how he feels; from his experience with wraith, he doubts they’d be quick to jump on a change that would remove what both made them wraith and gave them multiple advantages over humans. Michael asks:

“You intend to spread the change through the wraith, all of them, so as to stop their attacks on humans.”

Elizabeth nods, looking pleased.

“Indeed.”

Michael sighs and leans back in his chair.

“I do not see how that would be possible. I have no pull amongst the wraith, and there is no way to force the change upon them in large numbers.”

Sheppard jumps in before Elizabeth can continue:

“Well, you see, we know a wraith. He’s a--”

At that he grimaces.

“--An ally we’ve worked with before.”

Ford can’t help but laugh, speaking with astonishment clear in his voice:

“You guys are friends with a wraith? I never would have thought I would see the day.”

Sheppard winces at the word friend.

“Friend is a strong word. It’s a long story.”

Ford grins, sure that it would be a good one.

“You’ll have to tell me some day.”

Elizabeth interrupts, looking bemused:

“The point is, we know a wraith, whose name is Todd. ”

Michael snorts and Ford has to cover his mouth to hide a smile. Elizabeth tilts her head at that and changes her statement:

“Or so we call him. He has shown interest in changing before, mostly as an advantage over other hives. He has some clout amongst wraith, so potentially he could make many of them listen to us.”

Teyla leans forward and adds:

“If he and his faction are changed, it is possible that they will simply wipe out the other unchanged wraith, leaving us with no reason to fight the remainder.”

Michael huffs, a smile on his face that instantly set Ford on edge. It’s knife sharp and sarcastic and his yellow eyes burn with bitterness. He speaks:

“You are aware that you are casually sitting here, deciding the fate of an entire species?”

There’s a sudden silence. No one will meet Michael’s eyes, except Ronon, who growls:

“The wraith don’t discuss before they try to wipe us out.”

At that the tension breaks. Michael looks, now, tapping his fingers on the table as if he’s nervous. He sighs:

“Fair enough.”

Still, Ford thinks, it is rather mind boggling, what they’re trying to do. It will entirely change the wraith way of life forever. A change for the better, probably, but still a massive change. If the fate of the universe didn’t hang in the balance, Ford might ask everyone to slow down and think about it. As it is though, he simply lets Elizabeth continue:

“We will send a message to Todd tomorrow. We assume he will want to meet with us. If so, I would like you and Michale to go with the team, Lieutenant Ford. Michael is currently our only example of the change and I’m sure Todd will wish to see him and speak with him.”

Ford looks to Michael for confirmation and once he nods, says:

“Of course.”

Elizabeth nods.

“Very well. We will reconvene tomorrow. Everyone, get some rest. It’s been a busy day.”

Everyone stands and begins to filter out of the room. Ford and Michael stand and wait for someone to direct them where to go. Their guards are still waiting faithfully outside the conference room. Elizabeth walks over them and gestures out of the door.

“If you’d like, I can show you to your rooms?”

Ford grins, happy to get to spend some one on one time with Dr. Weir. He’s always respected her, and still does. 

“Thank you Dr. Weir.”

They walk through the halls of Atlantis, occasionally getting a weird look from a passerby. Ford is relieved to be heading to bed, he’s exhausted and he’s sure Michael is just as much, if not more, tired. Before they reach the room though, he wants to speak to Dr. Weir.

“Dr. Weir? I just wanted to say thank you. For giving us both a chance. I know we’re not exactly the most trustworthy.”

Elizabeth smiles, as bright as the sun, and turns to Ford.

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant. And truly, we missed you.”

Then she turns to Michael, smile just as affectionate and sincere, and says:

“And Micheal, I look forwards to getting to know you better.”

Michael shifts awkwardly, but smiles back and nods.

Then Elizabeth turns away and gestures towards the doorway they’re standing next to. The door slides open when she waves her hand.

“Here we are.”

They step inside to find a large, comfortable room, typical of Atlantis.

“Lt. Ford this will be your room. Micheal, if you’ll follow me I’ll show your room.”

Micheal hesitates and looks at Ford with desperate eyes. Ford understands that he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, but doesn’t want to reveal their relationship unless Ford is alright with it. Ford throws him a comforting look before speaking:

“That’s alright, Elizabeth. We’ll share a room.”

Dr. Weir’s eyes flit to the bedroom, where there is only one bed, but there’s no judgement in her face. She simply nods and continues:

“Very well. There will be two guards posted outside your door 24/7. If you need anything, please ask them. Good night.”

Ford and Michael chorus together:

“Good night.”

She leaves quietly and Ford flops down on the bed with a groan. He struggles to pull off his outer layer of clothing as Michael does the same. Finally they’re both snuggled up under the covers, and Michael cuddles close. Ford wraps his arms around him and lets his eyes drift peacefully closed.

——-


	19. chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I don't think ronon's a bad guy, he's my fav, but i also don't think he'd ever get along with michael
> 
> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\----------

Michael wakes slowly, fading back into consciousness and the sensations of his body. It’s still strange, the new sensations that a functioning digestive system gives him. There’s the dull ache of hunger resting low in his stomach, and below that the heavy feeling of a full bladder. Not particularly pleasant, but he’s getting used to it. He shifts slightly, pressing at his stomach with the palm of his hand in hopes of lessening the burn of hunger. He’s perfectly comfortable right now and he doesn’t want to move.

Aiden is still asleep, Michael able to hear his slow, deep breathing in the quiet room. They lay face to face, arms wrapped around each other in a casual embrace. Their legs are tangled together and Michael is careful not to move them in hopes of not waking Aiden. Instead, he gently leans forwards and presses their foreheads together, just soaking in the closeness.

When he was wraith, there was never anything like this. There was huddling for warmth, the masses of bodies pressed together in the small spaces of a hive, but no touching with such affection behind it. Humans do everything with such feeling behind it, so much so that it still leaves Micheal overwhelmed. But it draws him in like a moth to flame; he longs for it so strongly that he can’t ignore it. He can’t tell if that is the human side of him, making him weaker. All he knows is he would not give it up. He would not leave Aiden for anything in the world. He has found his true place here, with him.

Aiden shifts sleepily, bumping his and Michael’s noses together softly, and wakes with a start. He blinks rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes and then smiles at Michael, a wide, dopey, lovestruck grin. Michael still feels shy, being looked at that with much love meant for him, so he looks down, but smiles back. Ford whispers, a quiet, private tone meant just for them, trapped in the small space between their bodies:

“Hey.”

Michael hums, feeling affection thrum in his chest, and replies:

“Hey.”

Then Aiden leans forwards, their lips just barely brushing, and kisses him slow and sweet, like the honey Aiden had let him try back on their planet. Michael kisses back, unwrapping one of his arms from the embrace to slide up Aiden’s back and into the soft curls of his hair. He remembers Aiden saying that was an affectionate human action and, sure enough, Aiden smiles into the kiss. Aiden loosens one of his arms as well and, remembering Michael’s request, avoiding his hair but instead slides up his neck to cup his face, fingers running small circles on his cheek.

Michael feels perfect like this, and he wishes it could last forever, but instead the buzzer at their door sounds, interrupting them. Aiden pulls away, breathless, and yells:

“One moment!”

He smiles apologetically.

“Guess we have to get up, darling.”

Micheal puts on a pout and pulls him closer for a moment before letting go fully.

“If we must.”

Aiden stands and goes to open the door, while Michael makes his way over to the bathroom. As he relieves himself he can hear Ford talking with someone, their conversation a low buzz that Micheal just can’t quite make out. He’s unbothered; Aiden will undoubtedly fill him in later. He finishes his business and returns to the main room just as the person at the door leaves. Michael flops back down on the bed and settles in, arms behind his head, and asks:

“So, what was that all about?”

Ford smiles and returns to the bed, taking a seat next to Michael and taking his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Elizabeth has called a briefing in an hour and a half. They were recommending we go to the mess hall before the meeting.”

At that Micheal’s stomach grumbles and he laughs:

“No complaints here.”

Ford stands, offering Michael a hand up.

“Shall we go, then?”

\---------

Michael and Aiden make their way towards the mess hall, picking their way through the halls of Atlantis. As they go, Michael can’t help but notice that they are being stared at by the people they pass. It’s not obvious, but it is there. It’s not a feeling Michael is unused too; he remembers being stared at on plenty of wraith cruisers, but does not make it any less uncomfortable. When he looks, Ford shows no sign of noticing, though he must have. Michael follows his lead and does not say anything about it. He does, however, start meeting the eyes of those who stare. He is pleased to find that most of the hurriedly look away when they see him staring back.

They make it to the mess hall, but before they enter Michael hesitates. Inside he can see many people, many more than he’s been around in a long time. The last time he was around this many people was on a hive ship. But now he has adjusted to it just being him and Aiden on their peaceful little planet. He almost wished they could have stayed there, but he knows neither him nor Aiden would be comfortable letting the fate of the universe be decided without them.

Ford noticed that Michael has stopped and turns to him, leaning in close to whisper:

“You okay?”

Micheal nods and replies:

“Yeah, it’s just a lot of people.”

Ford looks sympathetic and reaches out to take Michael’s hand, giving him something to focus on other than the overwhelming noise and bustle of the mess hall. Micheal nods to him again and takes a step inside. It’s loud, but at least it’s familiar. Michael remembers coming here before he discovered the truth.

They get in line, a perfectly mundane action that makes Michael want to laugh. He swallows it down, not wanting to draw more attention than they already have. They take their servings of breakfast—-scrambled eggs and pancakes this morning——and make their way over to an empty table. Michael sees Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla sitting at another table and tilts his head towards them, asking if Ford wants to sit with them, but he shakes his head no.

They sit down at the empty table, which has been strategically picked so that they can watch the door as well as all the windows. They share a certain sense of paranoia that makes it so that they don’t feel safe unless they can see all the exits at all times. It’s one of his quirks that Michael is glad Aiden not only understands, but has as well.

They settle down to eating, content with the quiet at their table. They continue holding hands underneath the table. With all the people subtly staring at them, someone is sure to notice the affectionate touch, but Michael gets the sense that Ford no longer cares. They had agreed to hide their relationship at first in order not to alarm the Lanteans more than necessary. But as they settle in, they are both feeling braver.

They’ve had a few minutes of peace when Micheal spots a group of people moving towards them. It’s lead by Teyla, with Sheppard and Ronon behind her. Michael quips:

“Uh oh.”

Ford grins at him and teasingly kicks him in the shin under the table. 

By then, they’ve arrived. Teyla smiles at them and asks politely:

“May we sit with you?”

Ford grins back, true affection shining through. Michael knows he missed her, and to tell the truth he missed her as well. Her presence is just wonderful; even and calming to be around.

“Of course you may! Sit down.”

Ronon flumps down into the seat opposite Michael with a loud clatter. He instantly goes back to chewing on his breakfast, but doesn’t look away from Michael. Michael has a feeling he intends to watch him until Michael leaves the room. He nods at Ronon, but doesn’t expect one back. He understands the man’s hatred; after being a runner for seven years, expecting anything else is foolish. He respects the man’s prowess—-he’s survived an ordeal no one should go through.

Perhaps when Michael was all wraith, he would not have thought so. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. His sense of right and wrong has changed since he met Aiden, and he does not miss the way he was before.

Teyla and John have settled down across from Ford, smiling at him. There’s a long moment of silence, until Teyla looks at John meaningfully and he jumps, clearing his throat before he speaks:

“So uh, Ford. I just wanted to say, it’s really great to have you back, buddy.”

As he says it, he reaches across the table and slaps Ford on the shoulder. Ford grins ratchets up another notch and Micheal can tell he is truly grateful to hear that from his former commanding officer. He beams and responds:

“Thank you sir! I’m glad to be back.”

There’s another awkward pause. Teyla turns to John and prompts:

“John, you wanted to tell him a story?”

John exclaims:

“Oh yeah!”

Then he leans towards Ford with a wicked grin.

“Do you want to hear about the time McKay got shot in the ass?”

Ford explodes into laughter:

“Boy do I ever!”

Michael looks behind them to where he can see McKay sitting, angrily glaring at Sheppard. Then he sniffs haughtily and looks away. Michael chuckles at him; the scientist is a funny little man. A genius, yes, but helpless in practically every other area.

John enthusiastically leaps into telling the story, which Michael quickly tunes out. He’s sure it’s entertaining, but he’s more interested in the man across from him. He picks at his food for a moment before asking Ronon:

“You’ve been a newcomer to Atlantis before, is it hard adjusting?”

Ronon snarls and stares for a moment longer and Michael fully expects not for him to answer. Then he speaks, his voice nonchalant:

“It’s not that hard. Everyone’s very nice, they help you along.”

Then he leans back in his chair and smirks as he continues:

“For you though, wraith? I don’t think you’ll ever be accepted.”

Michael does his best not to snarl back, although he wants to. The most important thing is not antagonizing anyone lest it escalate, god forbid, into a fight. Michael does not think he could take Ronon and he has no wish to find out. So instead he tilts his head and asks sarcastically:

“I don’t imagine you’d like to share any advice?”

Ronon laughs, grinning shark-like at Michael as he speaks:

“Nope.”

He goes back to eating his pancakes in large, enthusiastic mouthfuls and ignoring Michael. Michael decides to tune back in to Teyla, Sheppard, and Ford’s conversation. Sheppard has just finished his story, which has sent Ford into a laughing fit. He throws his head back and laughs with everything in him. It’s not an expression Michael has seen on him before, and he likes to see him this happy. He squeezes his hand, joining him in the joyful laughter.

They all laugh together for a moment before falling into silence again. Michael takes advantage of the moment to speak:

“Teyla?”

She turns to look at him, smiling softly. He feels a clench of fear and guilt when he looks at her. She speaks:

“Yes, Michael?”

He sighs and gathers his courage:

“I would like to apologize for any harmful actions I have taken against you in the past. I promise that I have changed and no longer would I ever attempt to hurt you.”

Ronon snorts scornfully. Teyla shoots him a warning look. Then she turns back to Michael and speaks:

“Thank you, Michael. I appreciate that. And I forgive you.”

Michael almost can’t believe it, but if anyone was going to be forgiving, it would be Teyla.

“Thank you, Teyla.”

She smiles, serene as ever, and continues:

“You are welcome. And you may continue to show your gratitude by remaining a good ally to the people of Atlantis.”

Michael smiles and nods.

“Of course.”

\-------


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\-------

Michael and Ford follow Teyla, Sheppard, and Ronon towards the conference room. They’ve link hands, swinging their arms occasionally in a happy movement. None of the Lanteans give them weird looks at the show of affection, which fills Ford with relief. He’s extremely happy right now; Michael is getting along with the Lanteans, Colonel Sheppard has been just as friendly as before Ford left, and they seem unconcerned by seeing him holding hands with a wraith. Along the way to the conference room, they run into Mckay and Dr. Beckett who join their little group.

They arrive in the conference room to find Elizabeth already waiting for them. She stands at the head of the table, paging through a file of papers. When they enter she nods hello and takes a seat. They follow her example and sit down. Ford waits expectantly, knowing they must have news. Michael smiles at him affectionately, glad to see him so excited.

Elizabeth begins:

“Thank you all for coming. As you can probably guess, we have received a response from Todd. He is intrigued by our suggestion and would like to meet Michael. As such, I am preparing a team to take a puddlejumper to meet him aboard his hive ship. Colonel Sheppard, you will take your team as well as Michael, Lt. Ford and Dr. Beckett.”

Sheppard nods before asking:

“No offense ma’am, but perhaps Lt. Ford should stay behind?”

Aiden shoots him a betrayed look and he can feel Michael tense next to him. They cannot allow themselves to be separated. Who knows what will happen if they let themselves be pulled apart.

Elizabeth smiles at Sheppard.

“I understand your concern Colonel, but you need Lt. Ford. He knows the most about the enzyme and how to remove the enzyme sac. As such, I’m sure Todd will wish to speak with him.”

Ford relaxes at that. He would not have liked to have gotten into a fight with the Lanteans so early.

Elizabeth looks them over and then continues:

“Very well. I expect you to leave immediately. Dismissed.”

The group rises and heads toward the puddlejumper bay, stopping along the way to outfit themselves with supplies and weapons. Ford enjoys the familiar routine of pulling on a tac vest and clipping on a machine gun. Michael and Ford wear their tactical gear over their homely outfits, rather than changing into uniform. Ford almost wishes he could wear the Atlantis uniform, but it isn’t offered and he decides not to ask yet. In the future, in his most optimistic dreams, he would be allowed to rejoin one of the offworld teams. He’d like to wear their uniforms again, fight on their side again, explore the universe again. 

His absolute most unlikely wish is that he could rejoin Colonel Sheppard’s team. That’s very unlikely, but he can hope.

They make their way down to the puddlejumper bay. They pile into puddlejumper one, Sheppard taking the pilot’s seat. Teyla, Ronon and Mckay take the other front seats. Beckett, Ford and Michael take seats on the benches in the back. As they strap in, Sheppard powers up the puddlejumper. Ford grins as he leans forwards and speaks:

“Just like the old days, huh!”

Sheppard turns back to smile at him for a short moment before sending the ship leaping out of the bay and into the air. He shouts:

“Going to be a long ride everyone, so get comfortable. It’ll take us hours to get to the meeting place.”

\------


	21. chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> slight violence and blood

\---------

After five long hours is the puddlejumper, the hive ship waiting for them finally comes into view. It floats in the vast darkness of space, a little purple dot amongst all the white dots of stars. As they approach, Micheal leans over to prod Ford awake. He had been lucky enough to fall asleep almost immediately once the trip had started. Micheal had attempted to follow his example, going as far as to lay his head on his shoulder, but had been unable to fall asleep. Instead he had watched the doctor across from them as he had read his book.

Ford startles awake, looking confused for a moment until he sees Michael, after which he smiles.

“Hey.”

Michael smiles back, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

“We’re almost to the hive ship.”

Ford jumps up, breaking the contact, and excitedly runs to the front of the puddlejumper. Micheal follows at a more sedate pace. Sheppard grins at Ford’s excitement:

“Haven’t you ever seen a hive ship before?”

Ford laughs and replies:

“Of course I have. Still, it never gets old.”

From behind them, Ronon mutters:

“I’d settle for never seeing another one.”

Just then, there’s the beep of an incoming transmission. The puddlejumper’s screen fills with the image of a wraith. His hair is long and there’s a spiky tattoo on his cheek. He looks them over, eyes lingering on the unfamiliar forms of Michael and Ford. Sheppard speaks:

“Hello, Todd.”

There’s an angry twitch at the name but the wraith remains pleasant enough.

“Hello, John Sheppard. I assume this is the Wraith you have changed?”

Michael steps forwards, squaring his shoulders. He can speak for himself.

“I am.”

He reaches out with what’s left of his telepathy, and he thinks:

I am Lastlight, though the humans know me as Michael. May I know your true name?

He has to strain to send his thoughts so far, reaching through the space between the two ships. Still, he gets back a saticky reply:

I am Guide, of the Guide alliance. I welcome you to my hive; many queen’s blessings upon you.

Michael wouldn’t admit it, but he has missed this. Both the telepathy and just being around another wraith.

Many queen’s blessings upon you. Perhaps we should return to speaking for the human’s sake?

Todd returns to speaking out loud, turning his attention back to Sheppard.

“Colonel Sheppard, you know where the dart bay is. Come aboard whenever you are ready.”

\-------

As the puddlejumper lands in the dart bay, they can see a small group of wraith waiting for them. The puddlejumper’s back opens, revealing the inside of the hive ship. The Lantean group stands and prepares to leave their ship. Michael can see the humans in the group tense at the sight of the wraith ship. 

Outside, the group of wraith consists of guide, standing at their head, four drones behind him. He looks every inch the commander of the hive and Michael can feel an instinctual respect rise in him. Guide is not quite a queen, but as close to one as a male wraith can become. As they approach, Guide bows his head in greeting. He growls:

“Colonel Sheppard.”

Colonel Sheppard nods back, though his hands stay tightly gripped on his gun. 

“Todd.”

Guide smiles, a harsh edge to it, but doesn’t say anything about the name he finds offensive. Instead he speaks:

“Shall we proceed to one of our labs? I am quite eager to see the results of your experiments.”

Sheppard nods and gestures at the hallways around them.

“Lead the way.”

———-

As they enter the lab, Ford looks around at the strange, tendon and membrane covered wraith equipment. Todd gestures towards a table and chairs on the side of the room. McKay huffs ans gratefully takes a chair. The rest of them remain standing. Todd smiles and shifts his gaze to Michael.

“You must be the wraith they have changed.”

Michael nods, arms folded behind his back. 

“I am.”

Todd begins to circle him, looking him over with curious eyes.

“You appear wraith, but are you still one of us? I have my doubts.”

Todd continues circling Michael, looking him over with curious eyes.

“You say you retain your wraith strength?”

Michael nods, perfectly calm under the intense inspection.

Todd smiles, something vicious in the undertone, and asks:

“Perhaps you would like to give us a demonstration?”

Michael smiles back, equally fierce. Suddenly, with no warning, he lunges at Todd. The pair wrestle across the room, slamming into the wall behind them. The Lanteans react almost instantly; there’s a whine as Ronon’s gun powers and aims, and Sheppard yells:

“What the hell is going on?!?”

Ford laughs, watching unconcernedly as Todd punches Michael in the face, making his nose spurt blood. Michael snarls and tries to bite a chunk out of his arm.

“Don’t worry, colonel. In wraith culture, this is just friendly sparring.”

Sheppard’s eyes bug slightly as he looks at the blood spattering to the floor, and he stage whispers:

“Friendly?”

Ford shrugs and goes back to watching. Todd has successfully gotten a growling Michael into a headlock. Michael snarls:

“I yield.”

Todd releases him and claps his hands together, smiling with satisfaction.

“Michael can proven he can hold his own in battle. This is sufficient proof of his retaining his strength. Now, you say you have lost your accelerated healing?”

Michael nods and reaches for a knife lying on the table, holding it to his arm. Teyla rushes forwards, asking:

“Surely he doesn’t need to prove this too?”

Michael smiles slightly at that.

“Thank you for the concern Colonel, but it will not be a grievous wound.”

Sheppard and Teyla both look disapproving, but don’t complain further. Michael pulls the knife over the skin of his forearm, opening up a slit that begins to leak blood. Todd leans forwards and take a hold on his arm, twisting it slightly to observe the wound. He watches for a couple minutes in silence, as nothing happens. Then he nods and releases Michael’s arm, turning away and gesturing to one of the wraith guards standing by the door.

“Bring bandages and disinfectant from the wound.”

Ronon grunts and asks disbelievingly:

“You have first aid?”

Todd smiles at him, baring his fangs in a way that is not quite unfriendly.

“We keep a small amount of such supplies on hand for our wraith worshippers.”

The package quickly arrives and Aiden takes it, ripping it open and carefully wrapping the gauze around Michael’s arms. His fingers are gentle and he softly rubs comforting circles into the soft skin of Michael’s underarm. Sheppard steps forwards, casually cradling his gun, and asks Todd:

“So, have we satisfied your curiosity?”

Todd grins, rubbing his chin as he considers.

“Indeed you have. But I will need time to consider. This is a large decision to be made.”

Sheppard nods.

“We understand. Take your time.”

Todd nods and turns, leaving the room. Once he’s gone, everyone relaxes a little and begin to take a seat next to McKay.

———-


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\-------

They’ve sat in silence for about 20 minutes when Ford finally decides he’s had enough. He leans over and pushes Micheal on the shoulder.

“What do you think he’ll say?”

Micheal hums as he considers. 

“Most wraith, I would expect to say no. But this one seems different. I would not have believed a wraith would ally themself with humans multiple times, yet he has. So I would expect his unusual behavior to continue and him to say yes.”

Ford grins and leans back in his seat, so far that the front legs come off the floor and he’s balancing precariously.

“What do you say we make a bet? I bet you five dollars he’ll say no.”

Micheal smiles affectionately at him.

“Aiden, you know that I have none of your human money.”

Aiden frowns and clicks his tongue. Before he can continue, Sheppard interrupts:

“I’ll take you up on that. I bet you five he’ll say yes.”

Ronon twirls his gun and adds in:

“Ten he’ll say no.”

Teyla smiles and primly throws in her bet:

“I bet Ten he’ll say yes.”

Sheppard laughs.

“Looks like we’ve got a betting pool going!”

Just then, the door slides open and guide enters. They all turn to him, instantly alert, all joking over. Sheppard steps forwards and ask the question on all their minds:

“So, did you make a decision?”

Guide bows his head in assent.

“Indeed I have. I have decided that I will order all those within my alliance to undergo the change.”

Sheppard pumps a fist in the air.

“Yes! Ford and ronon, you owe me!”

Guide glares for a moment and Sheppard sobers. Guide continues:

“But.”

Sheppard sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Always has to be a but, doesn’t there.”

Guide smiles and continues:

“We demand that after the change we be treated as full allies of Atlantis, and that Atlantis and her allies will not attack wraith who have been changed, unless they are attacked first. Is this acceptable?”

Sheppard shifts and asks:

“We’ll need to contact our superiors. We can do so back at the puddlejumper.”

Guide nods.

“Very well. I will show you the way.”

He turns and leaves the room and the lanteans scramble to follow him. Micheal pushes to the front of the group, as close to guide as possible, and focuses on his telepathy.

How does it feel, making such a massive decision?

Guide smiles, but doesn’t turn to look at Michael, lest they alert the humans to their telepathic conversation.

It feels like I wish I had a queen to make it for me. But I do not, so I must rise to the challenge.

Michael feels a similar ache for a queen and knows it must be even worse for guide, trying to keep a group of wraith under control without a queen.

If it helps, it doesn’t hurt. You don’t feel any different afterwards. You’ll hardly even notice.

Micheal can hear guide sigh.

That does not comfort me. I wish it would ache and agonize, to make such a large change. To lose that which makes us wraith; surely that should be painful.

Micheal almost feels stung at that. It feels like guide is accusing him of not being wraith enough.

You will still be wraith. I am still wraith.

Guide’s step falters, just slightly.

Will we really? For centuries, the defining purpose of a wraith was to feed. If you take that away, what are we?

Micheal feels his stomach drop. It’s a huge question to answer.

We will make a new identity for ourselves. We will remain as proudly wraith as we have ever been, but we will do it without spreading misery through the galaxy.

Guide buzzes on a frequency too low for the humans to hear, a considering noise.

I hope you are right.

By then they have reached the dart bay and their conversation drops off. Sheppard opens the back of the puddlejumper and then turns to speak to guide:

“We’ll have to fly to a planet with a stargate to speak to Atlantis, and then we’ll come right back with their answer.”

Guide nods.

“Take your time.”

\--------


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:
> 
> none

\--------

It’s a long five hours back to the stargate, which Ford spends cuddled up against michael. The taller wraith lets him curl up against his side, under his arm. At some point Michael takes Ford's hand and intertwines their fingers. Beckett looks surprised for a second before he hides it. Ford smirks at him and squeezes Michael’s hand tighter. After a few minutes, Ford notices that michael is fidgeting by tugging at the bandage wrapped around his arm. Ford lays his free hand over Michael’s, stopping the nervous motion. Micheal meets Ford’s eyes, smiling with a hit of nervousness to it. Ford sighs and asks:

“What’s wrong?”

Micheal’s eyes flit away as he speaks, keeping his voice low:

“I am overwhelmed, having been one of the people to have changed the future of my species.”

Ford laughs; it certainly is overwhelming when he thinks about it. But he quickly focuses on comforting him instead:

“You did it to help them, Micheal, and to help everyone else in the universe.”

Michael nods but sighs out:

“I know. But I cannot shake what Todd said to me.” 

Ford frowns; he thought he was present for their conversations and doesn’t remember them speaking one on one. But he pushes that aside and asks:

“What did he say?”  
Michael recites:

“For centuries, the defining purpose of a wraith was to feed. If you take that away, what are we?”

Ford winces at the thought of how many people have suffered and died at their feeding hands over the centuries, but he understands the point. 

He reaches up to cup Michael's face before pulling him into a kiss, uncaring at the embarrassed squeak Dr. Beckett makes. When he pulls away michael is looking at him, eyes full of love. Ford looks back, sure he looks just as intense, and says:

“You are so much more than that, Micheal.”

Micheal sighs, the strain in his shoulders slowly relaxing. He whispers:

“Thank you.”

Their moment is broken as Sheppard yells back that they’ve reached the stargate. They dial and open a comm link. Sheppard begins to fill Elizabeth in on Todd’s request. She looks serious as she listens, and once Sheppard falls silent she doesn't speak immediately. She waits a long moment before looking up and saying:

“We agree. Please let them know that Todd and his associated hives are now seen as full allies of atlantis.”

Ford mentally cheers; this means all of Todd’s wraith will be transformed. Michael gives ford a happy smile, and they begin the long trip back to the hive to tell Todd.

————


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw this chapter:
> 
> none

\---------

The puddle jumper finally settles into its spot in the puddle jumper bay, and the team disembarks. Ford sighs and stretches, excited to be able to move around freely again. Next to him, Michael says:

“That was a successful and satisfying mission.”

Ford grins and replies:

“Yeah, makes me wish we could go on more missions.”

Obviously not intending for anyone else to hear. However Sheppard does as he comes down the puddle jumper’s ramp. Michael and ford head out, probably back to their room. Sheppard considers what ford has said for a moment before heading towards the control room, where he needs to be debriefed by Dr. Weir.

————

The debriefing goes quickly and Weir nods at him in dismissal. Sheppard hesitates a moment before stepping up and speaking:

“Dr. Weir, if i May.”

She smiles slightly at him; he’s worked hard to earn her trust. 

“Of course, go ahead.”

Sheppard takes a deep breath before he says it:

“I think you should let Lt. Ford and michael go on missions.”

There’s the barest hint of surprise in her face, quickly hidden.

“Why do you think that?”

“They’ve given us the key to changing the wraith. They did well on this mission, listened to orders. How will we ever know we can trust them if we keep them cooped up in Atlantis? Give them more chances to prove themselves.”

Weir considers.

“What you propose is risky, but I’m willing to try it. I’ll assign them to Lt. James’s team.”

Sheppard feels a pang of sadness that he won’t get to work with ford, but he’s not willing to have ford and michael replace any of his current teammates. He wouldn’t do that to ronon, Teyla or McKay. So he just nods and say:

“Thank you.”

He leaves the briefing room, hoping that ford and micheal will be happy with the new development. 

\-----


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter:
> 
> none

\-------

Michael and Ford are curled up into each other on the bed when the radio crackles to life.

“Lt. Ford, come in.”

It’s Weir’s cultured voice and Ford sighs. Michael cuddles closer, not wanting Ford to get up. Ford sighs and presses a kiss to his forehead before he says:

“I have to get this.”

Micheal huffs but untangles his limbs from Ford’s and lets him go. Ford rises from the bed and makes the short walk over to the radio sitting on the table. He toggles it on and speaks into it:

“I’m here, Dr. Weir.”

A crackle, and then her voice, sounding pleased:

“Hello, Lt. Ford. I would have called you in to tell you the news face to face, but I know you must be tired from the mission, so I settled on radioing. ”

Ford perks up at the word news and listens intently. She continues:

“I have decided to place you and Michael on an offworld team led by Lt. james.”

Ford looks over at Michael and sees his slit eyes go wide with surprise. Ford can feel his own eye equally as wide. He wonders if it would be unprofessional to ask ‘really?’. Before he can decide, Dr. Weir says:

“Given Micheal’s partially wraith nature, your team will be limited to missions that do not require contact with indeginous peoples. I hope you enjoy viability surveys and mineral acquisition, Lt.”

THere’s humor clear in her voice and he laughs, overwhelmed by just being allowed to go on missions, even if it’s just the boring ones. Then he sobers and says:

“Thank you, Dr. Weir.”

He can almost see her smiling as she replies:

“Of course.”

She says it’s like it’s no large gift, but he knows exactly what he’s been given is worth. Him and Michael are still security threats, no doubt their teammates will be keeping a sharp eye on them, but that does nothing to dampen his enthusiasm. He clicks the radio off and sets it down carefully before pumping his fists in the air and yelling:

“Yes!”

He can feel michael smiling at him and he darts over to the bed, throwing himself onto it like an overexcited kid, and pulls michael into a kiss. 

\--------

The next day they meet their teammates. Every atlantis team has four roles that they’ve fallen into: leader, nerd, person with knowledge of pegasus, and muscle. For their team, Michael knows plenty about the wraith and, through them, the indigenous peoples of pegasus. Lt. James is their leader, and a nervous looking man who introduces himself as smith is their nerd, while Ford falls into the position of muscle. It all works out, really. 

Lt. James is a touch looking woman with a buzzcut, who seems unphased by Michael's presence. Smith, on the other hand, appears to be sweating through his uniform and can’t stop looking at michael. Ford is talking to James when he catches Michael bare his fangs at Smith, making him jump and skitter back. Ford has to muffle a laugh and hope James didn’t see. From the look on her face, she definitely did, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she finishes her sentence and steps over to smith and micheal, addressing them both. 

“Now, we’re in an unusual situation, with you two on our team. But im not here to judge you, i'm here to work with you, and that’s what I plan to do. Don’t make me regret it.”

Micheal and Smith both nod, looking equally well intentioned, though Michael's is hidden under a mask of impassiveness and Smith just looks vaguely terrified. James gives them both a nod back and then hefts her gun, heading for the gate. She yells over her shoulder:

“Let’s move out!”

\----------


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for this chapter:
> 
> descriptions of injury

\--------  
Smith is first into the cave, not weighed down by carrying James's limp form. Michael and Aiden follow as quickly as they can, but their commander’s body in their arms slows them down. Michael feels a pair of pricks on his back and curses out loud at the pain. They are being swarmed by very angry, very large alien insects. They had accidentally irritated a hive. Smith had said the cave would be safe from the insects, but they have to make it there first. They run into the shadows off the rock and keep going, waiting for the buzzing to stop. Slowly, the insects peel off until they’ve ceased chasing the team. 

Smith stops ahead of them, huffing and puffing. Micheal and Aiden stop as well, and set James down. The woman is covered in stings, which are quickly swelling up to become welts. She had been closest to the hive and taken the worst of it. Micheal can feel the stings on his own back throbbing with pain and, just to add to the misery, they’re beginning to itch. Micheal looks to Aiden and says:

“I believe you are next in the line of command, Aiden.”

Aiden nods, face serious, concern slipping through as he looks at James. Then he turns to Smith and asks:

“How long before the insects lose interest?”

Smith stutters, still sweaty and fearful from running for their lives, but answers:

“According to the entomologists who observed them first, they retreat to their hive at night because that's when the large batlike creatures come out.”

Aiden gives Smith a nervous look.

“The bats aren’t going to attack us too, are they?”

Smith sighs and shrugs:

“They shouldn’t, but with our luck...”

Aiden gives Smith a commiserating look and grumbles:

“Simple mineral extraction my ass. Bugs the size of my forearm are not simple.”

Smith laughs out loud, and then looks startled. Aiden grins, glad that there’s still a hint of humor to be found in their situation. Then he orders:

“Alright, sounds like we’re stuck here until nightfall. No one wander off, that includes going deeper into the cave. Our main concern is taking care of James, understood?”

Smith and Michael nod. Michael leaves Aiden’s side to crouch by James, checking her pulse with his fingers at her neck. Her pulse is rapid but steady. The welts are red and irritated and she seems to be running a fever. At the moment she is unconcious, but he hopes she will wake soon. Unless the venom in the stings will keep her unconcious. He really has no idea what to expect. 

He tunes back in to the other two men’s movements and finds that Aiden is digging through his vest, pulling out what little medical supplies they have and piling them next to James's prone form. Micheal walks over to join him and begins doing the same. Once they’ve emptied their vests, Aiden asks:

“What’ve we got?”

Michael digs through, looking for anything useful.

“Tylenol, anti nausea pills, thermometer...that’s about it.”

Aiden sighs and picks up the thermometer, forcing it between James's lips and under her tongue.

“Let’s figure out how bad the fever is, if she wakes up we’ll try to get the tylenol into her.”

Michael nods and waits until the thermometer beeps. Aiden takes a look and proclaims:

“105. Not deathly, but not good either.”

Micheal nods and decides to sit. He is here for the long haul, he supposes. He reaches out and take’s James's hand, waiting for her to wake up.

\----------

Ford sits next to the fire he’s started, a few feet away from James. Given her fever they had decided to keep her away from the fire. She had woken up a couple hours ago and the first thing out of her mouth had been questions about her team. Ford had assured her they were all okay and gotten her to take the tylenol before retreating back to the fire. Michael remains at her side, talking to keep her distracted and holding her hand. 

Next to Ford, Smith shifts and whispers:

“I didn’t expect him to be like this.”

Ford turns to the scientist, raising an eyebrow. Smith looks like he really wishes he hadn’t spoken up. Ford considers biting the man’s head off, but decides to remain cordial and asks:

“What did you expect?”

Smith fidgets with the stick he’s been poking the fire with, but answers:

“Well, the wraith we’ve interacted with have always been very aloof, almost snobby. I was expecting him to follow the same pattern. I certainly didn’t expect him to sit there and hold James's hand.”

Ford is surprised that the man didn’t just say wraith = evil and be done with it. He feels the need to respond with something equally insightful.

“He can be cold at times, but even from the beginning he was very polite. I don’t know if it’s because he was held at Atlantis and treated like a human for some time, he may have picked up the human concept of politeness.”

Smith nods and they fall into a short silence before the scientist gathers his nerve and speaks again:

“Are you and he really...”

Ford is taken aback by the guts it took to ask that to his face. Nevertheless, this time he’s ready to bite Smith’s head off. But then he considers. The rumor mill of Atlantis has obviously already been working. Better to tell his teammate the truth, rather than to leave him with whatever lurid tales the rumor mill had come up with. So he sighs and says:

“Yes, we’re dating.”

There’s surprise on Smith’s face but if he’s feeling any disgust, he hides it well. He shuffles nervously for a moment before he says:

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sure you can imagine what people are saying, I didn’t want to assume anything, so I figured I’d ask.”

Ford sighs again, deeper, more sadly.

“I’m not ashamed, and neither is he. But that doesn’t make other people’s reactions easy to deal with, either. ”

Smith looks sympathetic. He speaks slowly, as if he’s not quite sure where he’s going.

“I know we’ve only been on a few missions, but I can safely say you’ve been good teammates.”

Ford feels surprisingly touched. He hadn’t expected Smith to warm up to them so quickly. So Ford gives him a genuine smile and says:

“Thank you. You mind if I tell Michael you said that?”

Smith smiles back, a small quiet smile that suits him well, and says:

“Go ahead.”

Ford stands and walks the short distance over to James and Michael. James’s eyes are slits, but she’s obviously aware of her surroundings, as she turns her head to watch his approach. Ford slides into a squat next to Michael, putting a hand on his back and asking:

“How are you doing, Sir?”

James gives him a weak thumbs up with the hand michael isn’t holding. Micheal adds:

“Her fever is falling. I believe the worst is over.”

James grumbles:

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Ford smiles at her; if she’s making jokes she must be doing okay. Then he turns to Michael and stage whispers:

“You won’t believe what Smith just said to me.”

Michael’s lips curl up in a amused little smile as he asks:

“What did he say?”

“He said we’re good teammates.”

Michael looks just the slightest bit surprised and is silent for a beat, before James speaks up:

“I agree.”

Michael looks down at her, his eyes getting slightly wider. Ford feels equally touched by James’s admission as he was by Smith’s. He reaches out to take Michael’s hand and watches the sun set through the opening of the cave, knowing that soon they’ll be able to get to the gate and go home. He whispers, mostly to himself:

“Yeah, I think we’re going to be okay.”

\-------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add more to this story later, but for the moment, this felt like a good place to stop.


End file.
